It's been a while since I updated my garden blog, but this isn’t long compared to Odyssey’s seven years at Calypso's island of Ogygia. And given that Covid still appears to be a valid excuse for all failing services, I feel entitled to follow suit. However, as opposed to Odyssey loitering away his time with Calypso, lots has happened in our garden and our once blank canvas, flanked by corrugated metal fences, has transformed from a rundown service station to the beginnings of what can be called a garden. First of all, the fences were replaced. Our epic builder, Russel, had to use more than 4,000 screws attaching each wooden plank into position. And the squirrels wasted no time in turning his perfect 50 meter long straight line into a racetrack; I can often hear them quibble about the result whilst working in my flower studio. We also have an upgraded pond. Thanks to Liam, our electrician, it is bigger and deeper than its predecessor. This wasn't because he accidently blew up part or the garden - even though my husband has realised that it would have saved him a lot of time digging - but because he kindly donated the pond structure. Our children love it, as it now has a mini walk bridge; and the frogs clearly do too. Our latest frog count was 15.... excluding the army of frog spawn. We've also planted three more trees and although my birthday apple tree failed to provide me with any apples last year, I'm hopeful it will play ball this year. Notwithstanding, I fear its lack of apples was in protest. Hopefully not in relation to my gardening skills, but possibly because his mighty friend next door has been sent to tree heaven prematurely ... Fully sympathetic towards its feelings, we went out and bought the biggest tree we could find. To play it safe we even made sure it was called Everest. So, in came a 4 -meter-tall white crab apple to grace our garden. Let’s hope it gives the apple tree a lift. Speaking of protest, our little sulking fig tree that moved with us from London, has made its way back home. It never quite got over the fact that its big brother was towering over him. So it can now play the lead role in my gadget-loving-brother-in-law’s garden. We also now have a dwindling path and the round shaped terrace has been laid; another triumph of Russel. However, we first needed to remove the concrete path that ran down the middle of the garden. As with everything in this property, we were in for another surprise. An old metal bed was buried under the path! I was a tat worried that soon I’d dig up human remains too, but the only bone I found was from a goat or another hoofed animal….I dread to think what we'll find when we get round to digging up the terrace... The tulips were magnificent this year and brought such joy. Even more so as I was fully prepared for the yellow invasion that took me by surprise last year. Despite the tulip package saying lime green they sprung up like a yellow army. My daughter aptly reminded me of my scattered colour scheme. "Mummy, I thought you didn’t want any yellow flowers in the back garden, so why did you plant these?" “Because lime green clearly comes on a spectrum….” Not having the will to dig up these majestic flowers, I reckoned ‘if you can’t beat them, join them’, then I promptly went out and bought a yellow flowering winter Jasmin.

The wonderful Oxburgh house is replacing it’s 250-year-old roof. Frankly, I’m impressed it lasted that long (albeit repairs took place in the 1900), but it turned out some Dutch craftsmanship is to thank for that. The 4th Baronet bought 50,000 pan tiles from the Netherlands to cover his beautiful moat-surrounded house. Nowadays it’s a National Trust house and to my delight they offered visitors the ancient pan tiles in return for a donation. Two of these historic Dutch tiles now take pride of place by the pond and one has been situated close to the Dutch rush to provide shelter for the Frog family. We hope they will like it when they resurface from the bottom on our pond in spring. Having found Froggy lounging in my orange floristry buckets on various occasions, I reckoned a Dutch connection might help him adjust. The tiles are not the only new features in the garden. We now have a mini garden path leading to the trampoline – courtesy of another National Trust property. Ickworth house was also replacing its roof and offered the slates for sale. They make a lovely path through the two pampas grasses onto the trampoline. And if that wasn’t enough, we have bought a circular terrace. Shade was hard to come by last summer and as it will take some time for our plants to mature, we thought it would be best to optimise the bit of shade provided by the stunning maple belonging to one of our neighbours. We haven’t properly laid it yet and the idea of wanting shade after endless weeks of bleak weather somehow doesn’t give that feeling of urgency. The garden is slowly coming alive and it’s simply wonderful to see water recede after endless rain and the bulbs stick their heads above ground. The alliums are the first to arrive, but I dread how long they will last. Our daughters have recently taken to football and not only will this make a nice round target, but I also don’t think they will forgive me for planting it. Last year (yes sigh… a year ago) during the first lockdown my youngest pointed vividly in the kitchen and said, “ it’s the corona virus ”. “Y es, I know darling, it’s not easy being inside, but soon it will be over… (if only I knew that was just lockdown no 1!) “N o mummy, she said, it’s the virus ”. Yes, darling I know… ” “ NO, it’s in our kitchen!! ” Now she had my full attention. “ No, you can’t actually see the virus, dear”… but then I saw it too… she was pointing angrily at one of my dried allium heads…. I’m not quite sure if I can ever look at allium in the same way, and I might not find out if my daughters discover them first…. Maybe I should buy the pear-shaped ones for next year…

I met Mrs Frog. She stared at me rather unimpressed and with an annoyed look of: how dare I disturb her in her new home. I was startled, not just because I was about to cut off the roof of her new home (a leftover piece of pond liner, which I didn’t dare cut for fear of the pond overflowing), but even more so because just minutes earlier I had nearly killed Mr. Frog (aka Froggy). Whilst repotting a Hydrangea, I thought I’d use some of the rainwater that had been collecting in numerous pots. But I failed to see that Froggy was bathing in an oval iron pot overflowing with water, which was also home to two pots full of earth. Tilting the iron pot to water the Hydrangea, I nearly crushed Froggy with the earth filled pots when I held it diagonally. Thankfully, he screamed at me and I discovered him just in time. Not knowing if I wounded him, I panicked and let him out into the nearest water source that I could find…. the children’s paddling pool. What a bad call! The poor thing couldn’t get out due to its slippery walls, but at least I could see that there was nothing wrong with his movements. So I called the children and I asked them to gently build a structure in their paddling pool to allow Froggy to climb out once he was over the shock of his deadly bath. In the meantime, I thought I’d finally tackle this overflow of pond lining - now that the pond looked so nice with its new grass and water plants…. - until I ran into Mrs Frog… Time to leave the pond behind and do something else I thought. I started digging a hole for the Apple tree I was given for my birthday, but sod’s law I didn’t get very far. On the exact spot where I wanted my apple tree, I hit upon a tree stump…. I should have known as it’s not rocket science to discover the pattern of tree trunks in our garden. Placed at 1.5 metre intervals on both sides of the garden there must have once stood a row of Cypress trees. Three survived, two were dead upon arrival and to date, I have dug up another 9 tree trunks. Without wanting to generalise, one does wonder what Roman Palace garden the previous Italian occupant had in mind…. Thankfully, the girls had just finished rescuing Froggy, so they now could turn to rescuing their mother’s apple tree. The three of us were able to lift yet another trunk and planted our JonaGold apple tree. We also marked out the designs for the next plant bed; a large circular area flamed with pink pampas in the middle, flowing down to pink and white Echinacea, Pony tail grass and Penstemon grasses until it reaches a row of lavender and cat mint, followed by Iberis Sempervirens as ground cover. If the name is anything to go by (‘always flourishing’), I can’t go wrong. A few weeks later when the circular area was all dug up and planted, I proudly walked out in the morning dew to admire my Piet Oudof inspired planting. I dreamily stared at my miniature plants thinking of flowing grasses in spring, until the smell hit me:….. cat’s poo. I can happily dream away staring at tiny stalks of what once will be, but the stench of poo was too hard to ignore…. Feeling guilty over Froggy’s forced adventure, I immediately headed for the pond to check if the invading cats had found their house. But when I gently lifted their roof, I didn’t only see Mr & Mrs Frog, but a third one. “Look it’s me, cried the eldest who had come out to join me: a Mummy, a Daddy and Child frog – now all we need is another one, for my little sister…” From that point onwards it was downhill and not before long the girls and I were doing frog jumps on the trampoline;)

And rain it did… endless cats and dogs came hurling down the sky… so much that the excitement of the pond finally filling up turned into a concern….did we create our bog garden (the bit where the pond overflows) in the right position? Are the plants in there seriously happy to be in a muddy patch or will they turn yellow? And why on earth did we build it so close to the fence?! The only piece of fence we actually intend to keep in this garden going forward… So out I went in my not so waterproof coat for some emergency pond treatment and to move a few plants to a slightly drier patch, even though dry patches seem hard to come by nowadays. My youngest had so much faith in the structure that she wrestled a large bucket of rainwater to the pond to add a bit more. Thankfully, the pragmatic eldest managed to stop her, clearly having a more realistic view of mother’s pond building abilities. I subsequently emerged myself in any type of pond management reading and decided that the key is to have more plants. An order was quickly made and to my surprise they managed to find the house on its first try. Yet, with all the rainfall I worried that the soil of the new water edge plants would simply flush away. A pondlife blog came with an ingenious suggestion. Cut a block of grass, turn it upside down and submerge it by the pond edges. The grass - in its quest to survive - will start growing upwards and will help grip the new plants on top. So we find ourselves with yet another pond experiment. In the meantime, I’ve been distracted by the florals inside our house. Now many would think that is a good thing - until you see it. Room after room is adorned with a seventies floral print that makes your head spin, topped off with a red carpet and pink bathroom. So, I took a break from the garden and focused on the house. Given that Odysseus spent a mere seven years at Ogygia during his ten -year journey home after the Trojan war, I thought a couple of weeks of ignoring the garden couldn’t hurt. Instead, I painted some of the walls to bring a slightly more serene feel to the house. When all limbs hurt and I slumped down on the sofa with the Ideal Home magazine (compulsory reading for any house do-er upper I was told), I was appalled to read “ Style Revival. Seventies Boho! This laid-back look is all about natural materials and tactile textures that create a soft palette of warm neutrals. ” Really?? I mean, please come and have a look at our seventies house. The only serene part was the overgrown garden filled with more natural materials than we could wish for. Even though I tend to agree on the textures; the avocado tiles, floral print and wood panelling certainly bring texture to the house. So much, that I think it’s time to go and check on Froggy’s offspring.

It's a shame we can't travel at the moment as I would have happily climbed the Parthenon to thank Zeus for the Indian summer. What glorious weather we have had; Perfect for gardening, and continuing my fight against alkanet . Yet my daughters kept asking when it would rain. They were in desperate need for rain water for their latest project and not just a bucket, but tons of buckets. Despite being half Dutch, we have not build a dam in the garden; but when my pampas grass was happily soaking up their moat water, they feared the frog (known as Froggy) would no longer be able to come along for a refreshing dip. Hence they decided to dig Froggy a pond. I thought they would give up after half an hour and we would end up with a nice little water feature. But when I emerged hours later, they were still digging. Mummy, didn't you say you wanted a hill for your plants? Look we’ve made one for you! Now, all you need to know is that my husband officially declared me mad when I moved the red dahlias to the front garden, as they don't fit my colour scheme in the back. Despite being a small type of dahlia, they were a thorn in my eye. The red did not work with the pinks, purple, white and blues on display. So you can imagine what my brain had to process when I stared at both a substantial hole and a heap of earth in the middle of garden... But this is a family garden after all, so not before long we were on our way to the garden centre to buy pond lining and a few aquatic plants. The lovely man at the Oakington garden centre must have been in full agreement with my husband's assessment of my mental state; because when he asked about the size of the pond, I didn't have a clue.... Thankfully it was on a roll, so I could respond with a question. “How wide is the liner on the roll, sir?” “4 meters” Oh…, well that should work, could you get me two meters please?” “Yes, Mam, but how deep is your pond, as you need double the size depending on depth”. “Yes of course”, I said, clearly not very convincingly, as he cautiously added: “you do know that you need to lay building sand on the bottom Mam, before you put the lining down?” “Oh…. Yes, sir, thank you.....” Back home, I hurriedly plugged into YouTube: 'How to build a wildlife pond', which of course I should have done before paying the garden centre a visit. But the one advantage of a fixer up house and garden is that one has a lot of things on site you wouldn't normally keep - like a piece of old carpet that works wonders for pond lining underlay. I had to hold myself back from ripping out the bright red one we inherited in the sitting room. But without an immediate replacement and with a concrete floor underneath, I might actually miss that red carpet when the frost sets in. So instead we opted for a grey woollen leftover carpet lying about, which happily slotted into the enormous hole my daughters had managed to produce. Topped up with builder’s sand we set about lining the pond... All went well until we ran out of rain water (which is used to help shape the lining). Under no circumstances was I allowed to use tap water, as the Wildlife Trust had just explained that it contained chlorine, and would not be good for Froggy... Thankfully our neighbours came to the rescue and helped fill at least a bit of the pond from their water butt, so our newly acquired water plants wouldn't have to endure the tap water... Scottish pebbles were subsequently placed around the pond, and the waiting game began. In the meantime, I could not help noticing the irony that the girls had chosen to buy Dutch rush in their haste to build Froggy a pond. The rainclouds were clearly on holiday, but I underestimated our daughters, because Froggy wasted no time and two weeks later, I was staring at an army of mini frogs in our half full pond...there was a rush after all.

Don't let yourself be fooled by the lovely blue flowers of green alkanet, as they most certainly bring havoc and destruction. Like Odysseus having to withstand the calling of the Sirens, I need to ignore their loveliness and instead dig deep to rip out their roots. It's relentless work with little room for error, because if even the slightest bit of root remains it pops its deceitful head again in no time. I soon discovered the entire garden is filled with them and that I was definitely not digging deep enough. Game on! I declared full of motivation and ambition. But sadly Aeolas - keeper of the wind- was not on my side. I wonder whether it had anything to do with that empty suitcase I found on the attic? Instead of finding secret treasures, the storms erupted after I opened it. I could nearly hear Odysseus say: 'told you so'. Stoic I battled on in my fight against alkanet, until I discovered the difference between water resistant and water proof for my rain jacket. At one point it filled with so much water I could easily replenish one our moats. Cold and wet I decided to cheer myself up by ordering some plants online. Dreaming of Piet Oudof designs with grasses and Eryngium flowing daintily in the wind. I waited in great anticipation for their arrival, only to find yet another obstacle: delivery men that don't read instructions or are colour blind... An orange front door does not mean blue, nor grey, nor black... With three failed deliveries they kept sending me pictures of various front doors saying I was not home. Trying to liaise with them via some automatic chat service I have to admit I did succumb to using exclamation marks “of course I was not home, as that is not my home!” When the last picture of a blue gallery flat door appeared I had to withstand the notion to say that I’d be surprised if someone is looking for white and pink Pampas grass on their balcony or window sill. Any idea how big that stuff can grow??? But if they wouldn't read simple door colour instructions I doubt they would have noticed the sign of live plants, treat with care on the box. This was confirmed by the fourth delivery attempt who carried the box upside down, despite the arrows clearly showing the other way... Needless to describe in what state I found the plants upon their long awaited arrival. How would you feel having spent five days in a box upside down? But Odysseus didn't give up lightly, so Game on it is, even if it takes me ten years to get this garden right. I better start by placing my dishevelled plants in one of our overflowing moats. I might need to call in a favour with Zeus and ask for some decent gardening weather.

A worm! After hours of digging and removing sturdy lumps of grass I finally see a big fat worm; proof that there is still some nutrition in this dry, rocky soil. 'Please let it be pregnant' I'm thinking whilst mixing compost with this greyish debris. Yet, I quickly realise I know absolutely nothing about worms, let alone their procreation. The only thing I know is that they are good for soil and not having any is the start of a desert. I add another mental note to my ever growing list of things to look up: how to help my worm multiply… The other day I found myself reading up on hedgehogs as we've been honoured with their presence. It shows up so regularly that our girls have named it Alex. It's nightly snail crunching sound is a vast improvement from the loud family of foxes we used to have next door, even though Isaiah Berlin would surely have been disappointed by their total absence from our garden. We do however, have a toad who calls our garden it's home. I thought he (or she) might move out after my gadget loving brother-in-law tackled the knee high grass with something that I can only describe as an electric blade on a long stick. Probably a modern version of the rusted machete we found in the garden. Yet my daughters sudden urge to start digging moats (they are half Dutch after all) might have convinced the toad to stay. I tend to agree with it - even I was tempted to sit in one of their freshly dug and water filled trenches to cool down with the recent heat. Instead, I found myself digging like a mad women to save my shade loving city plants from London. With only two shady spots on offer- thanks to a neighbouring Acacia and Maple tree - one was rapidly turned into a seating area, whilst the other is now filled with my semi shade loving plants. They have settled in alright, but look a bit like a child with clothes they need to grow into, a bit droopy with too much room for manoeuvre. On the bright side the scorching heat has put our gigantic fig tree in over drive. After supplying neighbours and friends with fresh figs, we've even taken to making fig jam. Our London fig got so jealous that it decided to drop half of its leaves... Imagine what it would have done if it got hold of that machete…