Autumn weather out there. I can’t wait for us to get our skylights in the house as it is so gloomy indoors. Usually we just open the doors to get in some light. But it’s chilly out there. I have a long list of things to do – but prefer to mooch about looking at grasses catalogues, online websites, and generally tidying up indoors.

And then out into the sun showers and gusty wind and measuring up the large areas of land between the house and the edge of the property. Thank goodness for the tool my father in law gave me: string on a stick doesn’t do it justice; it’s two beautiful metal pegs and a wonderful swivel mechanism. An antique line marker (happy diversion on Google trying to find out its name.)

And now I can offer the first draft of the garden.

Revenge of the garden: I’m covered in bites. Some of them itch like mad. I look like a spotted leopard with all my iodine coloured antiseptic cream.

I realised too (while itching away) that I have made the exact design fault that I decried in others. I have dotted single plants in the herb garden. They bear no relation to each other except that they are herbs. I should yank them out and just plant one group of thyme. And pot up the coriander, basil, and lemon verbena.

Hurrah, Nicolas is here. I’m off to work. I need to move all the branches from behind the pool and put them on a lower terrace for future burning. And collect some stakes for next year’s tomato crops at the same time.

Four hours later and I have earned my rest. Heaps of labour today. And Nicolas has made a huge go at the terrace. Scary work. I have no idea how we are all going to get it done. But we both stood together and gnawed at our fingers and tried to be positive. And I am sure we just start at one place and muddle through.

As a diversion I dug more soil onto the potager, and then drove off to Vernoux for a bit of Gamm Vert therapy. New secateurs, seventy litres of potting compost, a packet of cleome flower seeds, sticks, twine and all sorts of little things for the garden. And hopefully Bernard will come by soon with news that he can do the small things about the house.

I can’t keep up with the figs. And tomorrow I really must collect some chestnuts to take back to London. The drive to Vernoux is positively littered with the nuts. Quite pretty to crunch over the road all those shiny nuts.

The seasons do really link up. Now it’s figs and quinces and the beginning of chestnuts. And also radish and lettuce and more to come. 

Must sow some lettuce and mâche seeds tomorrow with my newly purchased potting compost. That should bring some continuity to the potager.

Monday 24th September
There is a scent of roses are wafting around the room here as I type and wait for the sun to come onto the garden. The vase has four buds and two fully opened roses. This old rose in the courtyard is quite a doer and gives off a most rich and lemony rose scent. It is a mess of course, unpruned for years and quite chaotic. I don’t dare prune it without help. And it needs to be properly attached to the walls.

Watering the garden each evening is a delight – the strawberries are perky at last, and the radishes seem to get bigger every day, as do the Swiss chard. I am going to plant the onion and shallot sets today. And naturally that meant I had to come up with a quick vague garden plan first. I want to have some height in each bed for the climbing beans and cucumbers. So being madly symmetrical, I have made a little 50cm square bed in the centre of each bed. Except I messed up one of the squares in the dusk last night. And need to do that first. Pictures cannot be taken until things look neat.

And I have had another go at the plan of the whole garden. Tricky to get all the measurements right.

Back inside to hide from the warmth of the day. Hot work scrabbling about the veggie bed. But I have done the onions and garlic. Took ages.  Especially as I didn’t find that ball of string I desperately needed to line up the rows. But the searching was diverting.

 And then out to measure up the place.

8pm. A light drizzle has brought me in. I only started moving the spare topsoil onto the lower potager at 7pm. It was too warm before then to do much heaving of spades full of soil. But now it is a quarter complete. The topsoil mound looks like an open caste mine. And the soil is alarmingly orange compared to the rest of the soil. I do so hope it is topsoil as promised. But it will help with the problem of that top bed being too close to the bedrock. And who knows, maybe a gentle soaking of rain will set it right.
 

Real planting today: shrubs. In homage to Robin Lane Fox’s Financial Times article which I have been cherishing for years, I have planted some winter scent. A Daphne odora aureomarginata (14 Euros 50) and a Mahonia x media Winter Sun (which was a bargain at only 4 euros). I knew they had to be in the shade.

“This is one of the most fragrant daphnes and as the name suggests, a Chinese species which grows quite happily in shade or dappled sunlight, but prefers some shelter from cold winds. The variegated form ‘Aureomarginata’ is hardier than the type, and an upright branching shrub with handsome creamy-yellow edged evergreen leaves, 8cm (3in) long and arranged in neat rosettes. The tubular flowers are small and fragrant, arranged in clusters at the shoot tips, and appearing early in the year. Plants like a cool moist rootrun, with good drainage.”

So I have put it under the lilac bush next to the guest house. And then I spent ages stomping about trying to work out where to put the Mahonia. I do love the winter scent of the Mahonia. There were a few in the borders at the far side of Primrose Hill; and they always cheered on one’s run. But sadly the bright yellow flowers are just not me. So I wanted to have the scent hidden. Naturally it should have been as far away as the Daphne as possible; but it has ended up exactly opposite it on the path. The Mahonia is hidden under the snowball bush next to the office door. Shady and surprisingly good rich soil. We don’t have much shaded areas around the house, as we don’t have many plants.

“Mahonia x media ‘Winter Sun’ is a dense, upright, evergreen shrub with leathery, spiny, pinnate leaves and spineless stems. It is grown for its densely packed racemes of fragrant yellow flowers, which are frost resistant and are produced from autumn to early winter in horizontal or ascending racemes.
The name media comes from the word ‘intermediate’, meaning ‘in the middle’, or ‘between’. It is a hybrid species of garden origin, a cross of M. japonica and M. lomariifolia, and the selected form of ‘Winter Sun’ was raised by the Slieve Donard Nursery in Northern Ireland.
Mahonia x media will take full sun but prefers to be in shade or a semi shaded area. It is best in a moist but relatively fertile, humus-rich soil, including chalk soils. It is frost hardy, and the scented flowers are frost resistant, but young growth may be damaged by late frosts.
The shrub does tend to get leggy but can be pruned, large plants can be stooled to about 18″ and will regenerate well, it is best though to prune over a 3 year period taking out about a third of growth each year. Pinching out the spent flowering shoots of smaller plants can encourage a more even habit.
Mahonia x media is generally pest and disease free.”
Then after lunch it was time to plant up some spinach in between the gaps made by the well devoured lettuce. (Devoured by us for lunch and not slugs I’m delighted to say). It’s a dull old F1 Spinach, nothing more. I had bought six cabbage seedlings at Gamm Vert. and stupidly wished I had bought more. It’s a Cabus variety. No idea how it will do, but so much fun to get things in the soil.  This follows on from the herb bed which I planted up this week too. Chives, thyme (two varieties, rampant rose and an upright version), rosemary, basil, coriander and best of all, a small verveine citronnelle. A lemon verbena plant. Hopefully it will survive the winter and grow into a good leaf producing factory. I know the coriander and basil won’t make it. But I couldn’t resist.

I have finally joined the RHS. The Royal Horticultural Society. I have been putting it off for years, stating that I won’t join until I have a proper garden. And I think 17 acres qualifies. And that was mostly Chelsea Flower Show envy. I imagined that if I went there I would succumb to plant lust and never be able to resist buying plants where I could never accommodate them.  And I hope to visit two RHS gardens with Jan next month so this will go towards ameliorating the costs.

Bulb plantings done this week: 10 tulip mount Tacoma below the wisteria and 21 Allium purple sensation bulbs near the artichokes – all in sets of five and seven in a desperate bid to be artistic. Hopefully the artichokes will take off and be part of the clever display. Otherwise it will look well weird.

And then in the afternoon it was the biggest treat of all (after going to the supermarket and the pool supply shop in St Péray) visiting not one, but two garden centres. Oh bliss. First to Gamm Vert to see what is in stock. I bought a huge amount of herbs, some onion and garlic sets and generally pored over each and every aisle to see what they have. Plenty of trees and shrubs; but they are in such a sorry state you wouldn’t want to invest in them. Nicolas told me about the Jacquet garden centre down a dirt road out of St Péray. Well, it’s more of a farm than a poncy garden centre and it was heaven. I didn’t have a lot of time, but I know I will be back.  I bought a daphne and a mahonia. Winter scent is the aim. And I need to come back with a proper list of plants to buy for the first terrace. They had some grasses – not a huge selection alas, but it may be the place to buy more fruit trees and such.
 

Well it takes a day. That is my calculation for the weeding regime I need to have if I am going at this garden in a part time capacity. I arrived yesterday afternoon and the method of arrival seems to follow a similar pattern. Open car door and launch myself onto the fig tree. Heaps of figs right now. I gorged myself on many, and juggled the rest to the kitchen table. Next one parks the car properly, unpacks, then you wander over to the grape arbour and gaze appalled at all the weeds in the potager.

Next it is not far with a handy pair of secateurs to dead head roses in the courtyard, prune the sinking branches of the courtyard mulberry tree, pause to eat more grapes, and then sprint into the house to unplug the just plugged phones and computer as a rumble of thunder roars overhead.  In a light drizzle and loud distant roar, turn the compost bin a bit with my nifty turning fork. And then in the fading light gaze amazed at the wonderful land we have.

This morning it was up early under drizzling skies and into the garden with a trusty hoe. (Well first it was visit to the pool with M. Pontgerard and his assistant to discuss tactics about the decking, and unearth the jungle of amaranth weeds that are growing waist high around the pool.)

The whole vegetable plot needs a good weed; but goodness what lovely radishes. In just five weeks they are the size of golf balls and look very juicy. In between trips to the house I have a go at the stumps of elderflowers that are pushing out yet more leaves beside the house and near the grapes. The ones by the barn and the future artichoke bed are pushing enormously large amounts of leaves. And the one under the grape arbour is growing lustily. I am also just about up to speed weeding of the ivy around the guest house and the barn wall.

Then this afternoon there was a lovely pause – a visit from a professional. Nicolas and I walked over the property and discussed strategy for walls and plants and terracing above the pool. He is the one who told me that the weeds are called amaranth. And he approves of the idea of growing lots of grasses and perennial plants. Work needed there. I really must get out the tape measure and find out how much land there is to plant up. Above the swimming pool will be the first.

I was delighted to be able to hand some of our produce to him. A bag of ripe quinces and a dozen figs. The figs have to be stored in egg cartons to stop them being squished and Nicolas thought it a clever way to present them. He Has Ideas for trying to sell more of his produce next year and figs in egg boxes are a good start. The quinces are for adding to his jams. Like me he isn’t a fan of the quince on their own, but they do add well to other things. If we had better apples they would go well in a chutney. I have a bowl of the poached quinces in the fridge – and must try and eat them a little each morning. Should go well with fromage blanc.

Then it was down to planting. I managed to put back 129 strawberry plants into the new wall above the potager. They don’t look as impressive now that they are in the ground, but it was fun and soothing to put them all in.  I lost around 40 since the summer, and have the pots to clean up. And I shall try and plant up some mâche now. No idea what is in the row that I planted directly into the soil in August – they all look like weeds to me. Nicolas identified some physallis which is a surprise to both of us. 

We were talking about green manure to stabilise the terraces over the winter. But up at the top potager I have discovered that I already have one growing. It’s a salad plant that is quietly spreading over the soil. Not a baddie, until it flowers. So if I can keep an eye on it, I won’t need to plant anything else. Shame about the rest of the weeds mind you.

Lastly I planted up the four artichokes that I smuggled over from London. And they are a sorry state. I almost wonder if it was worth all that effort. I don’t even dare take a picture of them. They may die overnight. If they survive I promise to record their happy transplantation from the allotment in London to the garden here. But I’m just not sure it has been a success.  And worst of all, there are three more large artichokes to go. Sigh. And next month I need to bring all those sage and thyme plants over. At least they are light and easy.

Calabert. That is the Ardèche name for our open barn near the house. Wish we had a nifty name for the second house. We have been calling it the Gîte as that was its use – a bed and breakfast place. But that won’t do any more. We really only want to have it as a guest house. Or a summer house (because it has so many gaps in the walls on the first floor it would be impossible to heat in winter). Pavillon des visiteurs? Not a very snappy name.

When you leave the house and come back on the train, you tend to keep thinking of improvements and ideas. Travelling up the country to Lille I had some serious thoughts on garden design. I have come late to the logical plan that you must look at the land and let it decide.

What do we have? Grasses, giant yellow Verbascum, massive weeds, poor soil, terraces, stone.  Nicolas was strimming the lower terraces last week and pointed out that he was saving certain plants from the blade; mostly little hellebores that are sprouting under some of the oak and chestnut trees. And as we were standing on the terrace looking at the view he also pointed out a beautiful grass on one of the edges of the terrace. To my shame I hadn’t even noticed it. It was small but sweet and was shifting gently in the breeze. And that was my moment: it made sense. I who has never once considered grasses as an art form have come to the conclusion it will be right for Marsanoux.

In fact I always found those huge messy grasses in gardens so odd. So messy. So bland. Etc. But now I am about to embrace them as the mass planting of the garden.

And to compound it, we saw so many stunning grasses when we climbed on Yorkshire gritstone that they seemed to be waving their fluffy fronds in a desperate bid to be noticed.  So notice I have. And I am about to get a steep education. I have ordered the following: Beth Chatto’s Gravel Garden, Gardening with Grasses, and two mighty tomes from the masters of grasses Piet Oudolf and Noel Kingsbury; Planting the Natural Garden, and Planting Design. I have some reading ahead of me.

Other London tasks including buying up pots of sage and the thyme from the Camden Garden Centre. Talk about coals to Newcastle. I am taking purple sage to Marsanoux.