Gardens

The nauseating stench of rotting cabbages filled the air as we walked this morning, and it's coming from the rape that has been planted everywhere this year. Even worse is to come when the flowers appear, their smell so like that of wisteria but just off-key and highly unpleasant, to my nose at least. We're doomed, Hugo and I, for as many months as it takes for the crop to go from yellow to black, ugliness taking the place of a sort of beauty - if you like acres off yellow - until the oil can be removed from the pods. When I pass fields of rape in the car I have to close the windows, but I can't resort to wearing a mask when we walk down the lanes. At least out own dear fields are planted with wheat or barley, I can't tell which yet. The rest will have to be endured.

I've decided to remove the rampant ivy I planted three years ago to cover two trellised walls, and replace them with honeysuckle. I don't really know what possessed me to put a non-flowering, non-scented climber in the two places where the impact should be sensational. Speed of coverage, I can only surmise. I've chosen a lonicera japonica halliana and a lonicera periclymenum Graham Thomas, both very highly scented and productive, and ruthlessly tore down the wretched ivy. One is on the fence behind the pond, and the other on the trellis which hides the oil tank. In future, like Anna Pavord, I shall never again plant anything that doesn't have a heavenly scent.

With the intention of buying these two climbers, and with a long shopping list, I headed for the Walled Garden this morning in the mist. It was chilly too, but unmistakeably spring at last. It was my first visit this year, and I felt myself drooling with anticipation and pleasure. I found both of the honeysuckles, as well as some favoured peonies, salvias, penstemmon, ribes, gaura, and many other perennials and shrubs that I desire, but in the end I limited myself to just 4 bags of ericaceous compost, three pots of sweet peas, and a few packets of salad leaves. When I got home I potted the three blueberries which have survived but not yet fruited in an open bed, and raked this area in readiness for the vegetables. I hacked down the ivy, and cleared the detritus away. Next week I will return to the Walled Garden and shop till I drop. David hasn't been there yet so he's coming with me. He turned up this afternoon to pinch some plants that he fancies in my garden, and proffered a bar of chilli chocolate in thanks. I've cut out cakes, biscuits, puddings and sweets from my diet in an effort to get my waist back in shape, but this was too much to resist. I had three squares and all felt right with the world again. What a simple solution.