From the next photo, you can see that at the shady end of the walk, hidden under overgrown Holm Oaks, the yews were spindly and failed to reach their intended height and spread, so not only would I have to restrict some of them, but I would also have to encourage growth on others.
The option I took, and the one which raised some bushy eyebrows, was to begin reshaping these laboriously, one at a time, with secateurs, until I had finished all of them, thirty here and another ten on the east side. The process involved imagining the perfect rounded conical shape (a pointed cone would never work with Irish Yews because of their habit of growth, and particularly as these now had no centre to prune to). With the final shape creating an imaginary outline in my mind, I set about making the relevant cuts, one by one, to take out the growth where it exceeded the bounds of its final planned form, and encouraging new growth to fill the gaps where the trees had not yet reached their ultimate scope. In some cases this meant cutting holes in the form to stimulate regrowth in the right direction. I anticipated many years of work to achieve my vision. In addition, I mulched copiously around the base of each tree, and repeated this annually to kick-start them into responding. Pruning of the surrounding, overhanging trees was also part of the procedure, to let more light in to foster denser growth.
I tell you, Mr. McGregor, a gardener, despite an undeserved reputation for irascibility, has to be patient. By my fifth year I was still at it, but the results were looking favourable. Regrettably, I had forgotten to pay attention to personal maintenance while obsessing over the garden, as the next photograph, taken by our volunteer photographer, will testify -
I trust you can see how much more healthy and shapely these now looked. Witness the holes I cut into the form for that essential rejuvenation. There was still more work to be done, of course, but I had now got to the stage where the detailed secateur work could be augmented by the use of the petrol hedgecutter. This was an art in itself, because to prune Irish Yews with one was a very different discipline from pruning an ordinary yew hedge. Because all the new growth is vertical, it is no good running the flat of your blade up the angled side of the topiary and expecting it to cut anything. All it does is push the growth inwards in front of the machine, at most only ripping ragged white blemishes into your lovely specimen. No. What you have to do is hold your blade at right angles to the side of the tree, and just nip in gently to the fluffy growth with the tips of the blades. To do this you need a steady hand and eye, so that you can follow the slope of the greenery perfectly without diving in and gouging great gaps in your work. It is a definite knack to be acquired, and doing it from ground level up to a height of 12 feet consistently takes skill and patience. It is never as easy as a professional makes it look. I hope you can see the difference. It took five years to get to this stage.
A couple of years further down the line, they looked like this -
Improvement works continued until I left seven years later, but I felt no further need to document the progress, as they had already reached an acceptable standard. Alongside this, similar work was needed on two rather raggedy Pittosporums either side of the steps leading from the house onto the terrace, which were growing to obscure the light from the library -
Here they are, shown ten years into my regime -
Sadly this was a case of too large a plant being put in the wrong place. We tried more drastic intervention later on, after they continued to outgrow their allotted space -
but I'm guessing this was unsuccessful, as I have since heard that they have been replaced by something entirely different. That's gardening. Always moving forward. Leaving the past behind. And me with it.
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