In my opinion, the late, great Alan Bloom has a lot to answer for. While I think he was an unbeatable plantsman (some of his introductions number in my top five garden perennials), he seems to have given gardeners permission to throw away discipline. Sometimes I think that if I see another curvy 1970s ‘island bed’ I’ll scream!
Unfortunately most of the folk who make these have absolutely no idea how to use their precious curves (Bloom did have a good eye). Consequently, their gardens may be filled with sumptious plants (as Alan Bloom’s was, and still is) and any number of so-called ‘features’, plonked down higgelty-piggelty, but when I look at their plots from a distance I am simply left wondering what on earth is going on.
Here comes the brag – not something I often indulge in. I was blessed (or cursed, depending on your point of view) with a plot that allowed no room for putting borders or features wherever I fancied. I had to follow the lines in the land that already existed. I built on that structure and enhanced it with everything I did.
A Sissinghurst-style garden with clear lines that contain and provide sense to a very naturalistic (and sometimes unruly or unsuccessful!) planting.
We’ve had some very cold nights (down to -4 degrees centigrade last night) and I can stand on my balcony and see the hard frost, 7 years on, describe what that imposed discipline has done for me.
There have been many planting headaches – particularly arising from the fact that I don’t believe in using a lot of water in the garden during the hot summer months, so many of Alan Bloom’s beautiful perennial plants won’t survive here – but, overall, the garden is really coming together.
Looking down over the veg plot to the new orchard borders, I’m enjoying the four erect cypresses bordering the veg plot that the Bon Viveur forced me to plant.
And particularly the four yews in the orchard – put in to echo the big block of box at the bottom of the garden steps.
They will eventually be clipped into statement pillars that accentuate the wilder planting around them (clever Christopher Lloyd and his father!)
One side of the twin orchard borders was completed this spring – I was down there planting Narcissus ‘Mount Hood’ and little Anemone blanda ‘Atrocaerulea’ yesterday.
In October, preparing for the border on the other side of the path (to be dug from January 2020), I cut the seedheads from the mix of pot marigold, cornflower, nigella & larkspur that edged the finished border in 2019 and laid them on the ground on the mirror side, so that we will walk down between twinned strips of ‘wildflower’ planting next year.

The Bon Viveur commented during the summer that the colours – what with the shadows of the Prunus ‘Tai-Haku’, the dark yews and the blue cornflowers and larkspur – hinted at Provence.
While we were working down there, we collected walnuts from the two young trees and laid them in a heap.
The birds were very grateful. As we worked, there was a continuous tap, tap, tap while they feasted. It always stopped when we turned to have a look – but we think the main dinner guests were coal tits. They call ‘itsy, bitsy, bitsy, bitsy’ to me whenever I work here. Coal tit talking himself down …
The yew hedge that divides the Long Border from the Rose Walk (created to emphasise the the long, flat Walk and disguise the steep slope down from it) is really thickening up now, 6 years on.
Here’s what the plot looked like in February 2012 …
After I had dug the Rose Walk in April 2012 …

And today …
I can hardly believe now that all of those yews were planted in a long funnel of wire fencing to protect their roots from foraging rat taupiers (voles). There is only one small area to the end furthest away in the picture above that is growing on more slowly – but it’s getting there …
I originally planned topiary arches to accentuate the shape, but I think in this lifetime I’ll content myself with varying the level slightly.
Fortunately you can cut quite hard back into old yew. I love the dark shape in the winter months, since it really highlights the red and yellow dogwood stems. You don’t notice these in the summer (when they are fairly boring), but in winter they come into their own.
The Knot Garden, 4 years on, is starting to plump up a bit from the original small cuttings that I struck in situ. And that’s in spite of the Box Tree Moth caterpillar and Box Blight (never a problem now that the weather’s so dry).
I’m in-planting with coloured foliage and tulips for the spring. Currently the foliage is from purple Heuchera and silvery Stachys, but I’m going to add some purple-leaved Ajuga and some silvery grasses in Spring 2020.
So yes, I’m really rather pleased with myself and the structure of my garden. It all takes less time than you think – although a lot of hard work. I am constantly reminded by my husband to add another few stitches each day.
Everything looks wonderful, and especially so with a coating of frost. I suppose part of the issue is that island beds are easier to dig out than to grass back over.
Sadly, France is very old-fashioned. I was thinking of island beds I’ve seen that have been created very recently – it still seems to be an accepted style in France. I think because people don’t have to think properly about their garden’s overall design in order to create another place to put the plants they want to grow.
Hence my rant today! I’ve had a lot of negative feedback on my garden from people who simply don’t ‘get it’.
Thanks so much for your kind comment.
And, by the way, after your last comment on my blog, I sniffed rose ‘Crown Princess Margareta’ properly – for the first time. She smells exactly as you suggested. So double thanks … I move too fast.
I’m sorry (and amazed) to hear that you get negative feedback about such a lovely garden – I suppose there’s no pleasing some people – but I am happy you lingered to enjoy your CPM rose. You’ve made me feel very glad I left the comment! 🙂
The frost really does emphasise the structures and shapes in your garden – it looks fantastic! Lovely photos. The box caterpillar has spread further in our region this summer, despite drought and heat, but the box in my old garden are still untouched.
Thanks for stopping by Cathy! The caterpillar has caused battles for two summers here. But the plants are still alive (although damaged). Will ”virtually’ visit you soon!
You have worked so hard and it shows. Oh gosh do I know how tough it is to cope with all those different levels and on such a steep slope. The garden is looking fantastic.
Thanks so much – very kind. I don’t always feel proud of myself!
Love what you are doing Cathy and it is a marvellous setting.
Thanks – even in the frost and fog today, it seems marvellous to me.
PS It’s the mixing pot of bright colours that gets me about his son’s gardens
Good to have a post from you again and it’s brilliant to see how far you have come with the garden – those yew hedges are wonderful. It is especially interesting to read as it is so didderent frm most of our gardens – we certainly don’t have the same constraints as you do!
I suppose we all have our own constraints, although I must say that nature never said ‘no’ so many times to me in the past!
Good to see a post from you Cathy. I hope that this summer treated you and your garden well. I hadn’t realised before now that your garden backs on to a river. All looks so easy on the eye.
Thanks! At the moment I feel that way too!
Wow! I don’t often here anyone else express dislike for the lack of discipline in landscaping. I would not mind it in conjunction with the cheap architecture at the time (in the 1970s), but it just looks too cheap on homes that deserve more refinement. The common ranch architecture that I like could go either way. Relaxed (or unplanned) landscaping looks no worse on them then simple and more refined landscaping. Victorian homes could have some degree of informality, but really should be outfitted with some degree of symmetry. However, early American homes must be landscaped with very strict discipline. Informality really make them look weird, as if there is something wrong with their symmetry. The only curve on an early American landscape should be the bisymmetrically elliptical lawn. Good landscape designers, even those who like curves, should be aware of this, and know how to use symmetry when necessary. Curves are too often an excuse for lazy designers.
Dang! I didn’t mean to rant.