A visit to a splendid garden is always an inspiring thing. One stands in front of borders and vistas and, stroking a metaphorical beard, thinks '....Yerss, give me a fastigiate this and a horizontalis that, a chainsaw, spade and a team of willing slaves and I too could have a slice of paradise....'
Bodnant and a walk with Bodnant's Head Gardener was just that. Inspiring. Covetous. The scale of the place is fantastic - deep borders and neat expansive terraces fall away to a tamed wilderness where trees - great soaring monsters - are the thing. Here water gushes and roars in lush green gullies - where above, in the formal garden a delicate tinkling trickle refreshes and compliments the painterly planting. Sigh.
Such a visit can be chastening too.....there is not a thing out of place. Even the miniscule amount of blackspot has its days numbered. Rabbit proofing - neat circlets of galvanised chicken wire in the borders are almost aspirational. Sigh again.
Back home I undertake a comparative survey; where Bodnant is a haven of order, a model of correct gardening technique, my garden seems to be making a bid for freedom. Chaos reigns. It's a jungle out there, a jungle where the twining stems of bindweed have coiled themselves ever more anti-clockwise into wiry ropes through anything and everything in their path. The shoots' relentless sun-ward growth binds binds all in a thick green blanket with, oh such pretty virginial flowers which belie such a tenacious nasty brutish plant.
Bindweed? How did it come to this:
It's fairly obvious I'm not proud of that. I've spent the morning untwining, pulling, snipping and hauling in an attempt to be rid of the stuff. A bit of a fruitless task because I think without getting rid of the roots, it will like Arnie, be back. I can tell you that it is horrid, sappy green and sticky.
So pretty amongst the clematis though....
PS My brother reminded me of this a few weeks ago. Check it out. Snigger if you must.