Well, if you close your eyes and squint you could call it a lovely lawn.  Two days of work and I’m delighted it’s over. A quick luncheon and out to the potager.

I keep getting beguiled by our indestructible mulberry. Who would have thought it could provide so much aesthetic pleasure in so many seasons. Well, not in winter. At that time of the year you just think it’s dead.

I can’t decide whether or not to get the mower serviced tomorrow when I go to town. Possibly not as I haven’t given the main lawn its final haircut.

The birch tree side has just had its last trim. (She says optimistically.) What I really need to do is get the strimmer out and do a bit of the banks on the road up to the house. And the bank below the fig tree. I want those hundreds of daffodils to appear in a smooth low growing bank of grass rather than have to battle through knee high tussocks and weeds.

I had been putting off posting these pictures. Not because I’m not thrilled. But because I wanted to tidy it away perfectly and present it in the best possible light.

And that light meant covering all the bottom of the paths with bark chips. I have been collecting bark from forest floors and fallen trees. Worked like mad to get them into small pieces and easy to walk on bits.  And the sum total of all my toil is one spoke of the wheel.

Way too puny a result. So until I acquire the goods (possibly on Saturday when I go to town and to some rather large garden centres) this is the sneak preview of the wonderful now potager.

The round bits are a complete triumph. And they exercised Nicolas’ creative brain no end. But he’s achieved it. And even managed to put some steps at the end of each path so one can step down elegantly and enter the new veggie garden with ease.

If I get the raking and mowing work finished today, I might have some time on Saturday to do some remedial weeding of the top part of the vegetable garden, tidy away the cloches, and lift some of those leeks to make way for all the new lovely soil.

I thought the lawn mower had been packed away for the winter. So what on earth was I doing spending a good three hours heaving and hauling my way up and down the lower terraces today?

Seemed like a good idea at the time? Actually I had gone down below the house to start raking the leaves. Next thing I knew out came the mower and it hoovered up the piles so nicely and neatly I couldn’t stop.

Killing two birds with one stone. You mow the lawn and get all those pesky chestnut leaves at the same time.

Now if you look carefully at the picture (and look beyond the fabulously neat stripes) you will see that not all the leaves have fallen off the trees. So this may have been a dumb time to think I could rake them up and have tidy terraces.  But the sun was shining and long expanses of leafy fields beckoned.

There is something addictive about raking. You are saving all the little wild thyme plants and grass from death by light starvation. And before you know it (well, your back knows it) you have raked half a terrace and are looking around where to hide the pile.

You won’t find any leaf mould cages here. But by chopping up the leaves as I mowed over the top of them they are breaking down into easy to digest bits.  With luck they will break down even if piled up in heaps next to the rock terrace walls. But I get the feeling I will need a lot of rain for this sort of silent bacterial (or is it fungus?) action.

Still, it looks dead tidy, and when I get up tomorrow and finish the few terraces near the vineyard I shall take my pictures and admire my handiwork.

I couldn’t think of anything more poetic for this post. Must have been the exertions with the rake addling my brain. An exquisitely sunny November day: and the afternoon has been spent raking and bagging up piles of leaves.  (In case you were wondering, the morning was spent painting doors – three down, two to go.)

This is the one resource that this farm has no lack: leaves.  So I am going to put them to use.  Leaf mould.  Apparently they are a great soil conditioner if you leave the leaves to rot in a wire cage for a year. Or two years if you are a chestnut leaf.

I have already filled the wire cage behind the stables with bags and bags of mulberry leaves collected laboriously from the courtyard.

Next up was to pick up the cherry leaves that are carpeting the car right up at our secondary car park. (The land near the house is filled with builders’ vehicles.)  And then it was a mere twinkle down to the first terrace to have a go at the cherries near the shed.  Warm work, but it will be all grist to the mill. Once I have made a wire cage behind the shed.

The lawn area under the birch tree didn’t yield as many leaves as I had hoped, but it will help the lawn over the winter.

A rose in late November? Goodness whatever next. I didn’t notice it until today as it was hidden by a builder’s wheelbarrow. The scent first alerted me. A springtime treat in the almost winter sunshine.

The rest of the gardening day was spent grubbing about in the dirt. I have scraped and hacked and now a large portion of the rocks are clear of soil and weeds.  They look ghastly right now; but if it rains tomorrow (as promised) then it might look a little less stark.

I could keep going but I have decided to keep the track that is almost level above the rocks as it’s a useful little shortcut from the barn to the potting shed. Well, useful when I actually keep it strimmed.

And speaking of strimmed. I had a visit from the pompiers today. They are doing their annual whip round for funds. They sell this tremendous colour calendar of the fire brigade’s favourite car crashes and local disasters they have attended with a photographer this year and think you might actually put it up on your kitchen wall.

Bless. But they did offer good advice about fire control. We were worried that the cherry trees were too close to the house but were reassured that it’s only pine trees that are the problem. Nothing like exploding hand grenades of hot fir cones to keep a fire flowing nicely up hill.

But they have exhorted and rather sternly reminded me that houses need to be well cleared of anything combustible next summer.  We had two fires in the region in August (one started by lightning, the other by an arson or an idiot, they haven’t decided which) and don’t want any repeats.  Madame will be out with her strimmer in force next year. So this bank of cleared rock may be a blessing when my back is aching and I have vibration white finger syndrome from holding the throttle for hours on end.

Right, end of gardening day. Time for a spot of door painting. If I can get the undercoat down tonight it will mean a zippy day of top coat layers tomorrow.

I’m having no luck whatsoever with my pictures in these blogs. They keep slipping down the text and threatening to fall into the next post.  So here we go again.  The paths in the potager are taking shape Two down, two to go. Plus the annoyingly tricky round bit which Nicolas is masochistically putting off until last.

We even had that amazing end of project conversation where we discussed what plants to put right up against the walls to hide the weedproof fabric.  Creeping thymes may be the best idea, or a prostate rosemary plus assorted herbs.  But I don’t feel quite ready to go and buy plants just yet.  That might be a new year treat.

My jobs today are going to stay determedly outdoors. This amazing weather cannot last.  So I will get to with my chipping. I went up into the forest earlier this week to collect suitable sticks to shove into the shredder and layer on the calabert path that is only have mulched.

And then I really ought to do more rock work.  But I can’t leave this very brown scene on this page without showing just how amazing the autumn colours are this year.  This is the viburnum that broods just outside the house.  Oh, yes, and it I am really really good, I might be able to finish weeding the strawberries.

It may look odd right now, but here is the newly levelled walnut tree surface. And with a bit of luck it will be easier to mow around the base of the tree.  If the grass isn’t short around the base, I never find the nuts when they drop.

And then to go to a further extreme I decided it was time to get to work below the second walnut tree. It didn’t have weeds at its base so much as mighty hummocks of brambles and grass.  Out they came.  And then for a spot of design inspiration, I have planted three small Hakonechloa macra grasses underneath. If all goes well, they will form a spreading carpet of loveliness. Right now they look grim indeed. And all the while I was working on the weeding I had a little companion. Jean Daniel’s young stallion has escaped. And happily munched around me all day. His mate the other stallion whinnied with disappointment that he hadn’t worked out how to get out, so it was quite a vocal day. 

A spot of golden yellow before I launch into the subject of rocks. It’s my first task every morning: all the leaves into the bags and then trudge down to the wire cage behind the stables and add to my leaf mould collection.

I have been hard at work over the past two days scraping the drifting topsoil off the rocks around the house.  It’s a ruse to cut down on the strimming work for next year as they get choked with brambles and lush weeds.  And also to try and get the atmosphere of the garden onto a more balanced plane.  Grasses and rocks. Not a bad combination.  And it will mean less planting.  I know it sounds a bit pseudo zen right now but let me illustrate.

Here are the rocks that line the path from the house and the barn towards the potting shed.  Covered in weeds and brambles.  And quite formless. The layer of soil isn’t very deep. So with a deft go with a trowel it’s easy to pull it off.  I will re-use the soil on the dry old Pennisetum bank, but right not it’s a work in progress.  I finished my first attack last night when it was too gloomy to see much detail. But I’m pleased with the first results.

Hard to see clearly – I need to wait until we get a good soaking of rain to clear the rocks properly. Whenever that miracle will occur. (Don’t start me on the lack of underground water on this mountain right now.)

This little task actually started on what I call the walnut path: the track that leads from the courtyard and takes you up past two walnut trees and the edge of the barn to the road above the house.  Lots of rich and lush soil here to dig up.  I have no idea how far I can go with this rock clearing, but I have made quite a dent.  The soil from this area has gone to fill in the gaps that I have noticed (now it’s not the mad weed growing season) around some trees.  The first walnut tree up near the road has a beastly plunging gap; perfect for snagging the lawnmower and throwing out the back and brain. 

What on earth have I embarked on?  A simple four line path with its apex in a circle in the middle. Large barrel of tulips and hardy annuals potted up.  A neat little design for the potager.

Nicolas is heroically working away – and I calculate it will take three more full days of his labour to get it done.  An expensive little exercise.  I just have to hope that all this toil will be worth the investment.

One of the spokes is almost complete. And in the almost dusk I have managed to get the bark chips down to hide the weedproof fabric.  I don’t dare take any more pictures as it’s just a building site right now and not really pulling together.

The title today is a play on words.  Leave the aesthetics alone is the translation and sometimes one can think it’s true.  All this effort for a vegetable bed.

Still, building site is the phrase of the week. We have the carpenters in. New ceiling in the main house and new window.  I am  forced outdoors to hide from the dust and noise.

So back to the gardening.  I have planted up the first crop of next year:  broad beans. Just a few rows of the Aquadulces to test and see if they make it through the winter.  It worked the first winter, but twas a mild one.  They are under cloches so Daisy won’t walk all over the perfectly raked bare soil.  And if and when the beans germinate, I will change over to a cloche with mesh.  It was fun to actually sow again.  Especially as the soil is so perfectly moist and rich from a great soaking in the past month. 

And then it was on to my biggest ‘to do’ list: get all the tulips in.  I have added two planters to the space under the wisteria in the driveway.  Not their best final position, but it will do for this spring. I had hoped to put them in front of the newly rebuilt potting shed.  But it aint built yet, so I can’t.

I also had some crocus snow buntings sprouting in their original paper bad.  Where to put them? I had thought they should join the originals Jan planted in the east lawn.  But my energy levels weren’t up for the heaving of the turf and the close planting.  So instead, I have put all 200 in the first layer of the spare wine barrel down below the euphorbias.  Fun to plant up when it’s bare soil and easy to push the little bulbs in.

What else have I been up to? Well, no bare earth for the next bit. Mowing. I did this days ago and can’t remember if I have posted this picture already, but it is satisfying.

Easy on the back (except when you have to haul the grass catcher out and it’s full of damp grass clippings and you need to trudge a few hundred metres to the nearest stock pile.) and such fun when you get some great swathes of lawn tidy.  And sorted  for the rest of the year I hope. Mind you, we are having a real mild spell right now which may cause the grass to keep on growing, but it is at least neat and organised now.  The orchard looks almost like a working one.

I’m itching to get the first terrace tidied away. But I don’t have the time this week. Once I get behind my mighty Viking and I have a good few hundred metres of grass in front of me it’s boy racer and off I go.  But I can gaze and gaze at the fantastic sight of our mulberry back lit by an autumn light. 

Almost as dramatic as the apricots and peaches down in the valley. My mouth was positively agape on my Sunday drive down to Andrew’s. An exquisite mix of oranges, yellows and greens.

I do so love this season.

This one requires some thought. And it may take a few days to get things down onto the blog. Also, my notes have just been buried under a pile of finished jam jars. So that is going to take a bit of extracting.

Last week I attended a three day course at the London College of Garden Design. My first ever effort at persuing any further education on gardening and design. (Further education? I haven’t had any yet, this is a self taught gardener.)  The title of the course was Battle for the Border and I had hoped it would give me some direction in the work I was attempting here.

It did more than that. And it has given me a sense of direction; one I don’t think I had articulated before.  Does one have an idea before planting or sowing or plowing ahead with a project?  It’s a garden. Things grow.  And it just takes time to work out which.  I agree with this wholeheartedly. But now at least I am armed with some new insights.

The biggest insight has been influence.  I had always imagined I would try and emulate an Australian garden of sorts. These, after all, are the plants that have the most emotive pull on my spirits.  Odd plants, alien almost and not always beautiful.  But the very first winter here had convinced me that frosts are going to see off all but the hardiest grevellias, banksias and desert pea.

And the planting of eucalypts in this very French countryside? What purpose, apart from a strange sense of garden identity. I don’t think the trees would appreciate the harder winters, and nor would my neighbours who have a strong sense of plant and place.

That little dream has died, but I keep it alive in the prints of Margaret Preston I have just hung in my office.  The reproduction isn’t brilliant using a digital camera and a flash, but you can see her compositions and her colours I think.  And I will have to be satisfied that my Australian ‘garden’ will be encapsulated on my walls and not the borders of the property.

So, twenty years of living in the Europe. Influence there? Russia hardly tickled any horticultural yearnings. But the English garden has been a focus of my research for a few years now. Not because it is the most appropriate. I have learned that now. But because it is the most accessible.  Beautiful magazines, beautiful books. Private gardens to visit, huge RHS gardens to marvel at. And of course nurseries to plunder.

The first lecturer from the garden design course was a very engaging Professor James Hitchmough who showed the group of designers (plus amateur in the corner) how to read the gardens designed by current practitioners. And how to think about humans in the landscape. There is more here that I want to say but my notes are inaccessible. I threaten to return.

And then there was a rather diffident talk by Brita von Schoenaich. Her method of delivery wasn’t brilliant, but I have been thinking quite a lot about how she said that horticulturalism has reigned as a style of gardening in Britain and one who’s spell most of us have fallen under.

Actually all three of the lecturers mentioned this. But I loved the way this designer boldly stated:  ‘In England, everything grows.’  And she is right. No wonder the borders are sublime. There is plenty of water and if you nurture your soil you really can’t fail.  In her native Germany it is ecology one studies first. And only then moves on to horticulture. Frustrating for a woman who was already keen on English style gardening. But perhaps all of us who garden in challenging places ought to go back to this approach.  No surprise that James Hitchmough is Chair of ecology [find this] at Sheffield University.  He researches where his plants come from before contemplating whether they ought to appear in any English context.

This is the introduction from Andrew Wilson’s lecture on his part of the course. I will leave it here as I need to head out into the wintry night and join friends at a restaurant. I return to this subj anon.

‘For decades the English flower garden has been the option of choice for garden planting around the world, luxuriant and romantic, but costly and time consuming to maintain.  Over the last decade or more ideas have been evolving as part of a pragmatic response to lower maintenance needs and in stylistic terms as times change and new generations come into garden ownership.

As a hang over from the arts and crafts movement the flower border is becoming a thing of the past as more naturalistic planting takes over our gardens whereas in some urban locations plants are virtually absent as minimalism and conceptualism grow in popularity.

This course aims to address these changes aiming to help the designer deal with new demands, ideas and philosophies as they affect planting design and the wider garden.’

And that is the end of the first lesson: gardening has got in the way of pontificating.