Here is the formula for a bad garden.
Previous owners leaving loads of crap+another previous owner doing a bad concrete job on a steep hill+not wanting to do work in garden cos it still looks awful after you’ve cleaned it all up=the following piccies.
Yeah, it’s bad. Or rather it was. Here is another formula.
Bad garden+some manly burning of garden rubbish+lovely friend with lovely pro gardener partner+one day and a bit (interrupted by some thunder storms, but mainly glorious)=yummyness.
In a very short time (the day and a bit was interrupted regularly by thunder, shopping for more supplies, accidentally visiting the Next sale while shopping for more supplies, getting a take away, drinking beer, sleeping, watching Country File with the ever fabby John Craven), the garden was weeded, the rubbish left by the last owners chucked in a skip, plants trimmed, moved, planted up, new plants purchased and planted in previously undiscovered soil, a moss house designated, conifer chopped down and two huge conifer trunks dug up, patio slabs replaced (having been removed by the council checking drains, and never put back properly), weed membrane put down, bark chippings scattered, potted up plants moved to new lovely places and plans made for purchasing more plants to leave in pots and a some chairs and a table, and the pub visited for a late lunch and some lager and lime. Oh, and Sue and I did some knitting too. Well, she knit the Mason Dixon baby kimono, and I crocheted some more scarf squares and made loads of mistakes cos of gossiping/getting distracted by Country File discussing Winnie the Pooh and the original setting for the 100 acre woods (somewhere in Sussex if you are interested and if I remember correctly). We had a lovely time, or at least I did. And I can’t stop looking and loving my new garden arrangements. See the garden shed? The previous owners had for some reason had the door facing that greenhouse and the wall (the greenhouse belongs to our neighbours), so that it took up loads of stupid space. All it took was turning it so that the door opened towards the steps (the right in the pic of the shed) and suddenly we have enough room for a full table and chairs set up there.
For those who are interested, our garden is mad. The reason the pics look down onto the patio is that we live in a steep hill. The lower level of our house has the front on the road, but the back is built into the hill, so we have no garden until you get upstairs. Our patio doors are next to the bedroom doors. The bit outside the patio doors has always been relatively well kept because we wanted to be able to see nice things, but the patio round the side of the house where the conifer was and the composter is kept was just a place to hang the washing really till it got nice plants the fence improved. And that’s also why you see the roofs in the left of the first picture – the top of the garden is actually skirting the top of our roof and you could jump from the edge to the bathroom extension if you liked. But I don’t think you would want to… We also have this strange little middle bit inbetween patio level and top level that we use as a path, mainly because it leads to next door’s beautiful top level garden. And you see that wall on the left of the shed? The top of it is where next door on the other side have their top ground level… It is pretty damn steep, but those walls have been there for a loooooong time so we are pretty safe Now that the garden is actually attractive, I will be more willing to look after it, and I’ve already weeded, and done it after coming back from work! Gasp! Hoorah!
After all that, I suppose I better not add any more pics for now But I have finished at last the first sock for my colleague after what seems an age. The scarf is almost long enough, and I have lots of exciting new books. So you’ll just have to wait for a bit for some knitting content, while I go admire my garden and the new Clematis I got the other day that isn’t in the pics and hope that the weather holds out for when DB’s parents come over to see the new aceness.