Never mind the beautifully arranged polythene sheeting which was in place for another purpose altogether. Neat job, though, don't you think? Ultimately pointless, because we didn't have fungus, we had rotting board edging that seemed to be infecting the plants. No, what we are looking at is the fluffy fringe above the formal line of the hedge.
The idea of the design around the perimeter of the garden was to have subdued plantings which did not intrude upon the surrounding countryside. In other words, whilst it was desirable to borrow the splendid views to be enjoyed from the garden, when out in open farmland looking back, it was not intended that your eye should be distracted by the riot of colour that a garden might force upon you. Hence all perimeter plantings were low-key, or hidden behind hedges. The landscape was a landscape, and the garden was a garden. Two separate entities which with scrupulous planning were supposed to blend seamlessly.
Behind that hedge the ground sloped away into the lower level, which was separated from the parkland by a small semi-circular ha-ha before then plunging down the hill. To fill the ground on the slope between the hedge and the ha-ha, a simple mass planting of Cotoneaster horizontalis had been chosen. Just as 'fastigiate' is an epithet of dubious usefulness in yew trees, which most certainly do get wider over the years, so 'horizontal' isn't much use for Cotoneaster either. Be wary of these simplistic descriptors. What this one means is that all growth tends to the horizontal. The difficulty lies in the horizontal growth each year developing above the previous year's. This plant, often sold as low-growing ground cover will eventually get tall unless you work on it right from the start. Of course, if you don't know that, it is soon too late to do anything much about it. Our fifty-year-old Cotoneaster was seven feet tall now and showing itself where it was meant to be invisible.
The photo that follows was taken two years before I arrived in the garden, and at least five years before we started this work, but I am sure you get the impression. You must imagine it worse than this, with the plants above the top of the hedge, and where the central steps descend, a wall of Cotoneaster, badly pruned, four feet above the sloping yew sides.
We were unable to envisage any alternative to drastic remedial action, and to hope that they survived the treatment.
Within one season of our intervention it had returned to this -
It didn't take long for the ground to be completely covered once more. That would have been the point where we should have started regular annual maintenance pruning, but sadly, we had so much other work to do that it never became a priority, and this drastic reduction pruning every few years became the norm. With time and labour constraints, this seemed the only way we could keep up appearances in the rest of the garden, whilst also dealing with the vigorous response we always got from these very strong established plants. Not ideal, I admit, but it was my policy to spread our input like marmalade on toast - right to the very edges. I always felt that the worst thing we could do was to maintain a high standard in the prominent areas of the garden and a lesser standard on the fringes. This would inevitably mean that visitors would cover the obvious parts first, areas near the house etc. get their expectations raised, only to have them gradually dashed as they got further out. My plan was to have the entire garden maintained to the same level of quality, so that all visitors left on a high. Inevitably that led to the odd compromise. This was one. But it was better than having people leaving, saying that it started out all right, but got steadily worse. And yet that is exactly the impression I get with most gardens I visit. Food for thought there, gardeners.
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