Day 113 - The pride of the single-handed

Well, I let everything tick over that summer, as I had a lot to learn about how the place was run, what my role in the overall staff structure was, that sort of thing. My boss left in the middle of it all which was unsettling on its own, especially as I could sense that all was not harmonious. However, as the 'outside man', albeit with the grand title of 'Garden Manager', I was slightly apart from it all, even if my new boss's inclusive approach to management kept dragging me back in. Nevertheless, I still managed to nurture the chip on my shoulder, that no matter how intelligent or experienced I might be, even colleagues who consider themselves enlightened always seem to default to a mode in which the gardener is the one you fetch when something heavy needs to be lifted. I used to pride myself on my strength and fitness, so deep down I was happy that that was being recognised, but on another level, I resented being called in every time there was a delivery, and remember often thinking, 'why can't the lazy bastards get up from behind their desks and fetch a sack truck?' I became that truck, that beast of burden. And it all goes back to that old snobbery - gardeners are not worthy, they are labourers when all is said and done. If only they knew. I always regretted that punching was no longer acceptable in the workplace.

Anyway,while the first summer was wearing itself away, I tidied up a few places around the garden. The most notable one was the ancient Mulberry Tree I mentioned. Remember? I showed you a picture of it, invisible under a canopy of ivy a couple of posts ago. Well, by the time I had cleared it, it was possible to see what it was really like. Many years ago, it had split down the middle, but had hung on to life and continued to grow on both sides of the split, so we had a very characterful tree. And it produced delicious fruits which ruined a couple of good shirts of mine, as they stain like nobody's business when they fall on you from above during the picking. That doesn't put me off, though, as they remain one of my favourite fruits. I have one espalier-trained against my fence in my little garden where I live now. I have yet to see it fruit. This was how the one at work looked after clearance, which involved digging out and hand-picking ivy from the branches and from the wall behind, which is not shown here -

Remember how it was before? That bed covered with ivy on the left below?

I will have more to show you of this as the underplanting developed.

We were now up to December that year in my photographic chronicle, and having survived my first summer without losing my job, I set about making the bigger changes that were necessary. It appears that the first of these was to replant the orchard, to replace the trees that had been lost, and restore the original grid system of planting. This involved removing the unnecessary shrubs that had found their incongruous way in over the years, taking out the dead trees, and planting new trees according to the pattern laid out. I chose all local varieties of apple, and filled in the plums and pears. It had been planted very regularly with rows of plums, pears and apples, and I stuck to that tradition, although I had plans of how I wanted to enhance that, which I will describe in due course. The planting was combined with rigorous pruning of the healthy trees. Each hole had the turf lifted from the top incorporated into the bottom, home-made compost worked through, and a dash of mycorrhizal fungi to restore health and vigour to the soil. I have a number of shots of the finished article, and will present them here, one after another with little comment -

What cannot be seen from any of these pictures, is that this whole area is heathland, and the soil here is letter better than beach sand with just enough humus to turn it brown. This made digging very easy, which I was grateful for, but meant that I had to invest my labour in the production of huge amounts of compost to improve it with. This became an important part of my activity here, and with wood chippings, grass clippings and herbaceous material each year, I was able to create a mountainous mass of goodness in a short time, extending to around 10m x 20m and a couple of metres high, all of which was collected by hand in barrows and turned with shovel and fork. You will see the results later in some of my later pictures. Meanwhile, the orchard from a different angle -

Looking good, nicely pruned, neatly planted -

I had been there just over a year at this point, and already I was beginning to feel proud of what I was achieving. It was all the sweeter for being single-handed. It was just me against the world and its elements, including the human ones. I probably feel better about what I did in this garden than anywhere else I worked because of that, for all that it was never a garden of any horticultural importance throughout its history.