Ann-Marie Powell Gardens Blog

Mist + gardeners + trees = Uppark yesterday

2012-01-19T13:57:00.006Z

Yesterday morning was happily spent in the company of Andy Lewis, The National Trust’s new head gardener at Uppark, stomping around the grounds looking at the developments he’s undertaking in the gardens there.

Set above the village of South Harting on the Hampshire/West Sussex borders, it has traditionally been ‘the house’ that’s drawn the visitors rather than the grounds. The National Trusts website describes the house as ‘A tranquil and intimate 18^th century House set on the South Downs’. To my mind, it’s much more than that; the interiors are not only exquisite, they are an example of considered restoration after a fire in 1989 (Uppark’s repair was the most complicated the National trust has ever undertaken), and the complete basement servant’s quarters and tunnels offer a fascinating glimpse of ‘life below stairs’.

I have to confess that when we lived in the village the spectacular views of the wide open lawns to the front of the house were a weekend draw for our family - a place to let the children loose within full view as we slumped on the ground for a quick read of the paper and some R and R from the rigours of young children. The gardens were simply a green wrap that one walked through to get to the grass.

Happily I think that my nonchalance at the gardens in their lolloping entanglement (admittedly studded here and there with a few interesting blooms), is now a thing of the past.

I first met Andy in 2010 at the always interesting annual Alitex lecture at the Walled garden at Cowdray. He’d been newly appointed Head Gardener after several years in private estates and a long stint at the more glamorous Wimpole Estate, another National Trust property. Newly arrived in the area, and filled with the excitement of his new challenge at Uppark, he invited me to visit as soon as possible. Instantly likeable, I enthusiastically accepted his invitation.

Full of apology, a full eighteen months later, on a murky morning with drizzle in the air, I finally arrived at the garden compound to take him up on his offer. A chattery mug of hot, welcome tea was drunk in the company of Terry, one of two part time members of staff, and Joy and Liz, two of fourteen precious volunteers who assist Andy, who is the only full time member of the garden staff. Eventually we ventured out into the 54 acres that comprises Uppark’s grounds. Mist soaked the ground, swirling around tree trunks and through canopies, marring Uppark’s crowing glory, the view. Undistracted, we walked down the avenue of trees leading from the Golden Gates, through a garden compartment with paths studded with moss drenched pebble swirls laid decades ago and out to the long border running the length of the dairy.

Low heaped mounds of Hebe and Cistus are soon to reside in a widened border here as Andy plans to formalise the bed's line, widen it and replant with the billowing herbaceous perennials so loved by him, and so lacking in other areas of the garden. As the only planting at this side of the house, where lawns tumble down and out towards the distant view of the sea, this will give visitors a reason to stroll (and linger) upon the path leading to the elegant Dairy Gazebo, which lies at the edge of the woodland wrapping the house on this, its west side.

This copse of woodland was where today’s energies were concentrated, and the place where my heart leapt in excitement and anticipation. Terry and the volunteers were hard at it, clearing scrub beneath a copse of trees where once finished, Andy and his team will drive a clear, unobscured wedge to open up the views beyond. Clearance, and hefty cutting back are key jobs for Andy as he fights back hefty overgrown shelterbelts of yew, which have over time grown to gargantuan proportions, and hitting back shrubs that have grown so tall as to creep into tree canopies, obscure views and obliterate plants at ground level. As much pruning material as possible is reworked into dead hedges around the grounds; aesthetically pleasing structures in themselves, with the added bonus of providing habitat for a proliferation of wildlife.

There are plans afoot for the restoration of the magnificent ‘Gothick’ seat and its surrounding planting, a productive vegetable garden, more work within the wonderful woodland to encourage rambling visitors, possibly a cutting patch, and improvements to signage so wanderers can be encouraged to, er, wander around the grounds.

All in all, my tardiness in accepting Andy’s generous invitation has turned out to be advantageous – Uppark’s bones are once again being revealed, in readiness to be clothed by the enthusiasm of Andy’s enthusiastic eye. I shall be visiting more regularly in future to bandy around ideas and see how the garden develops. Who knows, I may even volunteer to help……

Uppark Gardens entertaining and informative blog (mostly written by Andy himself) can be found here

Happy New Year

2012-01-10T13:00:00.001Z

After the excesses of a celebratory yule and precious time spent with the family feasting, talking and generally not doing very much at all, together, kickstarting the new year from a standing start can be a befuddling, difficult wrench.

And so it was when I arrived back at the office last week bleary eyed, back to a job that I adore, but wondering where and how to start.

Thankfully, the garden here at the office was taking no prisoners and in my absence had been carrying on regardless. It has become my shining example.

With most of us experiencing the mildest winter that we can remember, for many it will be no surprise to hear that Rodgersia, Echinops, Nepeta and so on are moving on at full tilt, budding up and taking full advantage of the unseasonable warmth. Here, the daffodils and snowdrops are up and at 'em.

With this in mind, just today, an article in the Guardian caught my eye. In it National Trust conservation advisor Matthew Oates said: "After two cold winters, we've reverted back to the modern trend of mild, wet winters. If you look closely in woods, valleys, stream-sides and south facing slopes in particular, there are features of late January and early February everywhere." According to the central England temperature series, the longest-running instrumental record of temperatures, there were just four air frosts in the last three months of 2011, compared to 35 in 2010 and an average of 15 between 1878 and 2010, the Woodland Trust said. Oates urged people who wanted to visit gardens to see snowdrop and aconite displays not to leave their trips until February as they may miss the flowers.

You can read the full article here http://bit.ly/yt0Fmk

And whilst the weather reports assure us that from next week the temperatures will revert to more expected lows of January (to what end for our enthusiastic plants and our gardens wildlife too?), I shall take a leaf out of my garden's book.

Hang the consequences, get out there and get moving. With gardens to move from paper to reality and new projects to begin, time waits for no man.

So the office fire is on, emails are being sent and after a blissful Christmas lull the office is once again a busy place to be. I have even written my first blog in months!

Good luck to one and all, and I wish you a prosperous 2012; may yours be filled with overly enthusiastic flowers....

Society of Garden Designers Review

2011-06-14T15:07:00.001+01:00

After all the hard work of Chelsea is beginning to ebb into distant memory, I must admit to being extremely pleased to read this in the Society of Garden Designer's July Journal.
So there we are - click on the jpgs to read them.
Now I promise not to talk about Chelsea any more. (Well at least for a while..........!)

Road to Chelsea 3

2011-06-14T14:45:00.002+01:00

Road to Chelsea 2

2011-06-14T14:44:00.000+01:00

May 1st, Chelsea countdown...

2011-05-01T20:21:00.003+01:00

On the up

2011-03-23T21:23:00.000Z

When there's barely a moment to pause for breath and questions and decisions need to be answered or made at every turn, its reassuring to know that one element of the chelsea garden is finalised, complete and out of my hands; the green wall boundary.

The RHS Chelsea show garden that I've designed for the British Heart Foundation (in association with Brewin Dolphin) comprises some really strong architecture. The arching red structures that sweep through the space need a gentle backdrop that allows them to be enjoyed without distraction. A green wall seemed the perfect foil.

I like the idea that the green textural planting of the garden floor doesn't end with the horizontal plane; instead the energy and effusive nature of the plants themselves have forced themselves out and up towards the sky. I want the boundaries to be another planting opportunity, as if the garden's borders can't be contained, and are spilling from the space, taking hold wherever they're given half a chance; wilfuly wild if you will. Comprised of ferns, ivy and the lesser known crevice filler Selaginella kraussiana, Richard Sabin of Biotecture has had the wall planted up for about a month now, and it's looking good. He's happy that the plants are settling in nicely, but wants a few days of consecutive sunshine for them to bolt away, knit together and form the shaggy, touchy feely verdancy that I'm striving for. I shall visit for a furtle myself some time next week.

But until then, no rain dances please.

The British Heart Foundation Garden Chelsea 2011

2011-02-16T17:21:00.002Z

After its debut at the RHS's London Plant and Design Show this week, I thought it time to dust down the artist's impression of our garden (more details of the brilliant Richard Lee's work can be found here) and pin it up on my blog for the world to see. And so here it is. Be gentle with me, this is nerve racking.

The garden has been inspired by many things, but has been designed to embrace and reflect the energetic work of the fabulous British Heart Foundation in their 50th year. I hope the garden catches peoples attention and does as much as it can to raise the profile of their life-changing anniversary campaign 'Mending Broken Hearts'.

In the BHF's own words "At the moment, there's no cure for a broken heart. Once your heart muscle is damaged by a heart attack, it can never fully recover. But there is hope. We need to spend £50 million to fund groundbreaking research that could begin to literally 'mend broken hearts' in as little as ten years time." You'll find more information on the wonderful appeal, and ways you can support it here.

The garden, particularly its arches have been inspired by the bold, colourful work of a piece created for the Mending Broken Hearts campaign by one of its patrons, legendary artist Sir Peter Blake, an image of the structure of heart muscle created by BHF researcher Dr Patrick Hales, and last but not least the power and strength of the human heart itself. These bold arching structures will imitate the movement of veins and arteries, and though I originally envisioned these arches in powder coated steel, an email this week has set me off course. I have a meeting with a supplier tomorrow which may result in an even more eye-catching alternative - of course, you'll be the first to know.

Sir Peter Blake's Image Dr Patrick Hale's Image

Translucent, internally lit red cell stepping stones float through the garden at ground level, traversing a pond (without water there would be no life), under the vibrant red arches which provide upward thrust to the space and frame views before ultimately leading to a 'floating' terrace at the heart of the space. Here the strands of the garden’s arches become freeform overhead, creating a sheltering structure, a break in the overhead frame providing a space to look back over the garden to contemplate, and assess one’s journey through the garden and so through life.

The garden, which is sponsored by Brewin Dolphin, will encompass the healing properties of plants and includes plants used in cardiology treatment, several natives, some marginals, and even some weeds, all creating a jostling foliage jamboree, with very little bloom. Almost entirely green, the textural planting is pushed into the boundaries with a vertical planted green wall system, leading the eye up to the heart shaped leaves of the mature Limes surrounding the 10m x 10m space above. All of this, I hope, will result in the red elements appearing even more rich, positive and bold as they career up, out, over and through the plentiful, green planting.

Essentially I hope to create a garden that celebrates life in all its forms...

In the briefest of detail, that's the overview. There's still so much to tell, several bridges to cross, and plenty of decisions to be made, but more on that later... for now, thanks for reading. Hope you like it....

Chelsea Plants

2011-02-03T16:46:00.002Z

As far as plants are concerned, the Chelsea Flower Show is a little chicken and egg - by the time you have hurdled the commissioning rounds, it is mid November, and just as you're revving up to place plant orders, every plant countrywide has collapsed below ground for a well earned rest.

But, if you want the plants you've specified in tip-top condition, you need to place orders with growers before Christmas, detailing preferred pot sizes, height and girth of the final plants, and specifying the ridiculous quantities you'd like to order, to ensure you have enough plants in peak condition, before another Chelsea hungry designer beats you to it.

Without the luxury of choosing plants earlier in the year before you know whether you're in or out, choosing plants is a little like stabbing in the dark - the scheme may be planted in your head, but you don't have the luxury of visiting nurseries in the hope of making new finds, those ethereal lovelies previously unknown to your acquaintance. Leafing through old notebooks, photographs and nursery catalogues becomes a chaotic addiction in the quest for the must have plant which will bedazzle and beguile your clients (the British Heart Foundation, and Brewin Dolphin), the general public, and the judges.

And choosing plants out of season, its sensible to have some back up plants, and then back up plants for your back up plants. Keeping all within budget is a logistical nightmare, as not only do you have to ensure you'll have enough plants at full tilt for that certain one week at the end of May, all of these plants have to be decided upon and decided within a budget.

However, with their sudden elevation to super model status, those plants lucky enough to be selected suddenly have to be housed in the nursery equivalent of a serviced five star apartment on Mayfair. And believe you me, this kind of horticultural haute couture comes at a (perfectly justified) price. Plants will be pampered, fed, watered, primed, primped, given sun or shade, and even read a bedtime story if the grower feels it may just be beneficial to the prima donna demands of the plant. It's a tough job, and those that take on the challenge are real heroes, whose hours of devotion are still not truly reflected in the costs charged to the Chelsea designer.

However, after much wrangling with plant varieties, costs and seasonality, I think I'm almost there - trees have been tagged, perennials, grasses and ferns have been ordered, and whilst the marginals for our pond are still not quite finalised, we are well on our way. And I think there's a tiny sprinkling of cash available for some last minute buys.

And though you'd think this would bring relief, in reality the end of one concern makes room for another. Now sleepless nights and empty moments are spent worrying about whether I've ordered enough of a particular variety, if I should have chosen another Hosta, or whether my Angelica will be tall enough. It seems that the time spent between selection and delivering the garden on show week, is mostly spent biting one's nails; by the time Chelsea arrives, mine will be down to the quick.

As for the hard landscaping - well, that's still slightly in flux, but we'll get there.... meanwhile, has anyone got any finger nails they can lend to me?!

The British Heart Foundation Garden Chelsea 2011

2011-01-17T12:13:00.002Z

On a Friday afternoon in the middle of November, the long awaited email from Alex Denman (Chelsea Show Manager) regarding our submission for the RHS Chelsea Flower Show 2011 finally arrived with ominous aplomb.

Having initially met with the wonderful Mike Napton of the British Heart Foundation in August, this email would be the end, or the beginning of several weeks of meetings, sleepless nights, nibbling of pencils and general head scratching in designing a show garden meant for the RHS Chelsea Flower Show 2011.

Now, for those who have never been through the proceedings, let me assure you that the show garden application process is by no means a walk in the park. After a nerve racking lunch with Mike of the British Heart Foundation, the masterful Sir Peter Blake (a world famous iconic artist who is a patron of the British Heart Foundation), and members of their teams, my concept was drawn up then nervously delivered to be agreed by Sir Peter, the British Heart Foundation, and the financial sponsor Brewin Dolphin. Gulp.

Thankfully they loved the sinuous curves of the bold design, with its vibrant colours and naturalistic planting. Phew.

So a more detailed plan was drawn up with a brief, a plant list and various other documents, and all were emailed (and posted!) for the deliberation and scrutiny of the faceless Chelsea Show Garden Panel, all to be decided in competition with the world's leading garden designers. More gulping.

After the first round, no yay or nay was received, simply a polite request for several more construction drawings alongside probing questions, and requests to simplify certain aspects of the design. Several sleepless nights later, I was again relived to have met the tight re-submission deadline, and the waiting game began once more.

And finally, after being asked if "I knew yet?" by so many people after so many weeks, it all came down to this; a pulsing email on a computer screen daring me to open the attached letter from the Show garden panel to let me know whether we were in, or out.

It took me a palm sweating, sickening, petrifying half an hour spent pacing around the office before I plucked up the courage to press the open attachment key on Alex's extremely polite mail.

And the answer was.........yes.

To say I was floored would be an understatement, and to describe my emotions is impossible. Is it enough to say that my screams of delight mixed with floods of tears and general quivering, make me relieved that I was alone in the office? (Though James Alexander-Sinclair swears he could hear me in Northamptonshire).

So at the start of 2011 I find myself in full swing with our Chelsea preparations. The process has so far been comparable to riding some kind of professional see-saw; in turns I'm thrown up in the air or down to the ground without warning, to be filled with joy, or fear at any time of the day or night.

And yet, I am loving every moment, and am thrilled to be working with, and for the benefit, of such an amazing, important charity. I only hope I can do them credit....

2010-11-03T10:49:00.001Z

Forgive me bloggers for I have sinned. It has been at least six months since I last blogged.

I hope to atone myself, but believe me, it's been a hell of a six months.

In brief:

I have designed various gardens, large and small ranging from a long large oak (yes oak) rill which strides though the client's new jungle, under a tree-walk and house, past a shade sailed fire-pitted bar area and ultimately to a swimming pool, through a couple of now delivered courtyards, to a vast meadowed native space set to build in the next few weeks, and finally an 'outdoor room' garden overlooking a tennis court with a terrace designed to proportions which allow table tennis tournaments.

I have seen a multi gold Chelsea-medalist dressed as a flower on a west end stage, danced and laughed my socks of at the best festival ever (Vintage at Goodwood, I salute you), celebrated my sons first and sixth birthdays with cake, tickles and water pistols, grown far too many green beans, enjoyed various raucous nights under stars and canvas and celebrated several fortieth, fiftieth and even a seventieth birthday in equally boisterous style. I have debuted in the Financial Times House and Home pages, finished my third book (released spring 2011), met the Queen (yes, really) and visited several jaw-droppingly beautiful gardens, my favourite of which has to be Waltham Place (though if we're talking company alone the Highgrove visit was an absolute hoot).

Oh, and I've become seriously addicted to Twitter.

It has seriously been a fantastic season.

But the highlight of it all has to have been working with Jane Owen on The Green and Blacks Rainforest Garden at RHS Chelsea Flower Show in May, more of which can be read about here. It was such an honour and a priviledge to be involved with such an important project at Chelsea, and to work with so many passionate people, not least the Cameroonian contingent. To say the team were thrilled to receive a gold medal for our efforts would be the understatement of the year.

However, on a personal level the pinnacle of all the immensely hard work has got to be this. Last week receiving, then showing, my actual real-life RHS gold medal to my children who were so patient whilst I was away.

Priceless.

Has spring sprung for you?

2010-03-02T11:25:00.021Z

Now I know its not quite spring (as Lilgreenfingers tweeted yesterday, its not officially spring until we reach the vernal equinox, this year on 20th March), but with the sun shafting through the office windows illuminating shimmering motes of dust dancing in its beams, well this girl feels like a seasonal corner has been turned.

And whilst I could write about the beautiful carpet of snowdrops, aconites and crocus through which I have to tiptoe to reach my office; my garden to do list; the merits of seed catalogues; or the last rush to plant bare root trees and shrubs; this has been done by others hundreds of times before. Plus, there's only so much spring panic a gardener can take.

I could attempt to take a more serious line and write about something of global importance, which would hope to change your garden habits as we plunge into the growing season of 2010. But recent weeks have seen some amazing blogs on important subjects such as carbon sequestration and offsetting by Mark Diacono, and both 'how horticulture is political' and forest gardening by Lia Leendertz . These make for brilliant reading and if you haven't already, I urge you to read them; they are written more knowledgeably and eloquently on the subjects than I could ever hope to achieve. So this is out too.

Time for a different tack. Now call me shallow, but to me, spring doesn't just herald the reawakening of the garden and the ideas, theories and methods of gardening within it. Spring arrives just after London fashion week, itself a cornucopia of colour, design and wonder. Spring promises not just the unfurling of startling green upon green upon green, daffodils, longer days and the smell of freshly cut grass, it also promises a whole new season of clothes; clothes to lust after, fabrics to stroke, colours to revel in, new garments to treasure, (and immediately hide from my boyfriend to be seen at a later date with a 'what this old thing' casually employed), and occasionally new clothes in which to garden in.

Thinking of Jane Perrone's recent tweet re floral tool wraps made me think of how often we associate gardeners with what they wear. Monty Don is often referred to as 'The lord of Cord', is Sarah Raven ever without a great coat or lace up wellies, and dare we imagine James Alexander Sinclair bereft of his hat (ok, and his iphone)? Looking to add a certain 'je ne sais quoi' to my own gardening apparel, I looked to the web for inspiration and found some interesting insights into other gardener's preferred choice of attire.

A gardenweb thread on garden fashion revealed that many gardeners favour the inevitable clogs, straw hats, gloves, aprons and visors to dress for cultivation purposes, but one comment in particular stood out. Now no giggling please, there may be other readers, who like 'Donna37' from Missouri, herald from the other side of the pond who find this behaviour nothing out of the ordinary. Anyway, said Donna had an interesting, alternative to the well worn bandana, used by many to keep hair and perspiration in check. By her own admission, when she gardens she 'sweats a LOT' , but thankfully her husband has found a thrifty solution that works for her, which must save on a lot of washing in the process. "He took one of his old socks, folded it lengthwise and pinned it around his head. Worked great and really absorbs the sweat.....they fit well and are a good way to recycle those socks with a hole in the heel". Helpful 'Cajungardener' enhances the design by suggesting the inclusion of swell gels to make this makeshift 'sockdana' cooling as well as practical, and when some other contributors suggested that this could be a toxic disaster, even more helpful 'Tasymo' suggested substituting the swell gels with the absorbent crystals from disposable diapers. Nice. Could this be Spring headgear 2010? Somehow I doubt it.

Not feeling in the least bit tempted to reach for a pair of Jules' threadbare socks and slam then around my brow, I further dived to find something slightly more elegant in a quest to improve my soil stained gardening garb for 2010. Eschewing the new Garden Collection by H&M as too flimsy and short to be practical whilst on ones hands and knees, (even though all the garments have been produced using sustainable materials or using recycled PET bottles or textile waste I could not inflict this sight on anyone), I was relieved to find that to move forward in the horticultural fashion stakes, I simply needed to look back into time.

Courtesy of the eminently readable blog by Martha B, Nibs, I was alerted to 'Garden People: Valerie Finnis & The Golden Age of Gardening' by Ursula Buchan, Anna Pavord, and Brent E lliott. Apologies if you have seen this book before, and huge recommendations to buy it if you haven't. Page upon page of an age since past, Finnis's pictures capture the elegance and quirky style of gardeners from the 1940s to the 1970s.

Though not all of those featured are dressed up to the nines, it is the images of those that are that I love the best. Here was my answer to my fashion conundrum. I am sure many of the women dressed up expressly to impress Ms Finnis on her arrival, keen to be photographed at their best, with their legions of gardening staff safely tucked up in the shrubbery for the day. And I know that double digging, laying a lawn, or turning the compost would be made distinctly difficult if hampered by a long gown and incongruous footwear. But what a lovely idea, to treasure, revel in and enjoy gardening so much so, that an afternoons weeding was certainly worth dressing for. And how glamorous and decadent to care not a jot whether 'your best' would get covered in mud, torn or stained in the process. So, though I think I'll keep my everyday gardening uniform of fingerless gloves, combats and well worn boots, I shall at least look in the mirror as I stride out of the back door, I might even wear a slick of lipstick, and perhaps even a sparkly broach, with a nod and a smile to these grande old dames of our gardening heritage's past. Hey, this may not be 'only gardening' after all. Pictures below......

Parsley Muir enjoying a little light watering.....

Lady Birley readying herself for some heavy pruning......

And the inimitable Valerie Finnis herself, attired for the potting shed, naturally.

Herculean Annuals

2010-02-22T13:40:00.013Z

Finally I have banished the giant stems of our long faded sunflowers from the borders, a hugely satisfying experience which went something like this. Heave out the erratically swaying monster dead plant (with banshee like wail), put a boot over the rootball, snap hollow stem away from the roots, revel in satisfying almighty crack, then chuck roots into wheelbarrow (ready for the base of the hedge), and stems on the burning pile. Repeat, seemingly ad infinitum.

Last year Archie (my 5 year old) and I grew a sunflower forest, planting 'Giant Single' and 'Velvet Queen' at the base of a sleeper retaining wall, their towering mightiness to inspire awe from the lower garden whilst easily enjoying the flower heads from the higher green oak deck above.

Never wanting to do things by halves, we planted dozens and dozens of home grown seedlings to give impact to the newly planted sparseness of the perennials growing at their feet, and to disguise the sleeper retaining wall behind them. And whilst their growth rate was astounding to both Arch, myself and all of our friends (they pumped skyward from the ground with such force and power you could almost watch them gain height in front of your eyes), keeping them upright through the gales of last summer was an 'interesting' challenge (much running around in blind panic at night, armed with canes, twine and a head torch). And though I should not have been surprised, the obvious fact that each 'Giant Single' only produced one, albeit huge, bloom which took an age to arrive, still left me feeling somehow cheated. Though Archie enjoyed his first success growing gargantuan plants, i revelled in the shorter, more generous, multi headed, deep wine red blooms of the sublime 'Velvet Queen', which Archie did not care for a jot.

Time gently passed in the way summers do, and the sunflowers passed over, turning from green leafy giants into wizened, bleached sticks marching through much of the bottom garden. However, though not much to look at in themselves, there's no doubting that my laziness prevailed in the end, and leaving them insitu through autumn and winter made our garden's bird population extremely happy (watching birds strip the heads of seed was a wonderful distraction whilst I washed dishes at the kitchen sink).

But being a firm believer that plants should deliver maximum interest to warrant inclusion, especially in a small garden, this year I shan't bother with the giant yellows, but will grow lesser numbers of glamourous Helianthus annuus 'Moulin Rouge' mixed with 'Chianti' instead.

I just hope Archie will forgive me......

Gardens are for people

2010-02-05T10:19:00.009Z

It's brilliant when a day turns out so much better than expected, and Wednesday this week was a perfect example.

I hotfooted it up to the Royal Festival Hall in London for the launch of the National Garden Scheme's 2010 yellow book. If I'm honest, I thought this would be a small affair, full of candy floss haired ladies of a certain age, knitting through a rather laborious talk as I gently snoozed, whilst secretly anticipating the lunchtime canapes.

However, as I hurtled up to floor 5 in the lift, the laughter, hilarity and the general cacophony of joyous noise drifting down the shaft alerted me to the fact that I had got this lot completely wrong.

Now I've known about the NGS for all my gardening life, have visited a few open gardens and in my past capacity as roving TV reporter, I worked with a couple from Lincolnshire as they prepared their garden for the NGS's public. I really ought to have known better. This lot have more energy than I have witnessed in a long time.

After a swift cup of tea, a veritable celebration of the NGS's work ensued, delivered via the genuinely thrilled-to-be-newly appointed President Joe Swift and the efficacious and charming NGS Chairman Penny Snell. Following a slideshow revealing some surprisingly contemporary new garden additions, a delivery of cheques (all including more noughts than any I could ever hope to receive) handed out to the NGS beneficiary charities and some well deserved exceptional service awards, I was sold. This was inspirational stuff.

3700 gardens will open this year on behalf of the NGS. That's a lot of gardens and gardeners, industriously priming their private gardens for us to visit, garden owners which are keen to share ideas, experiences, successes (and failures) with us, whilst raising money for charity. Together through the NGS they hope to raise £3 million in 2010. And just a cursory flick through this years Yellow Book (which lists dates, entry fees and gardens open by area) reveals several gardens of appeal close to me. So I shall endeavour to do my bit for the NGS, whilst partaking of one of the joys of life, gardens. This year I am going to diary, then visit, as many NGS gardens I can. www.ngs.org.uk

The picture is of Great Dixter's produce table carrying the weight of some stunning dahlia varieties, taken in October of last year.

Head space

2010-02-01T15:49:00.007Z

As a working mother it can be immensely difficult to find the time to garden for myself. The pottering of pre-children life is a thing of memory. More likely you'll see me bounding around my garden racing to get anything done, as the baby naps and my five year old bounces on the trampoline. These hastily stolen half hour slots are governed by (usually late) deadlines of seasonal jobs; autumn and spring bulb planting, seed sowing, re-potting and much neglected weeding are today's reality. I am immensely lucky that Jules, my long suffering partner is a gardener too, and though I truly feel that I should better pull my weight outdoors at home, he will sneak in and do those jobs that I simply don't have time (or energy) to accomplish.

Though the weeds are taking hold at home, the carcasses of snow crushed perennials are creeping across the deck, and one hundred Allium 'Purple Sensation' are now mouldy and withered, my family are worth this garden neglect and I know that my garden will have to wait.

Which is why I am lucky that at work, in the calm of my office, I can plan gardens for others. Here, I am industrious. Here a terrace can be laid in five different finishes through the course of an afternoon, ornament is changed with the turn of a page, maintenance free borders planted within the confines of my head can crash with infinite combinations of texture and flower, all almost satisfying my need for my own gardens change.

And though I'm not physically gardening; without the clock ticking, or guilt, I feel close to it; that the itch has been scratched. Then I'm off home again to cook the evenings supper and wallow in the chattering, giggly gorgeousness of my babes whilst my garden is tucked up patiently in its blanket of darkness. And in biding my time until my next half hour gardening slot, who knows what my garden will deliver.

Whatever it is, I bet its worth the wait.

2010-01-22T12:00:00.000Z

Staring out of my office window at the rain marring my view of the gorgeous Sussex countryside, I'm glad I have the wood burner to keep me warm and toasty. Ok, it might not be the best weather to be gardening in, but its perfect weather for writing this, my first blog post to accompany the launch of the new Ann-Marie Powell Gardens website.
Through my posts, I hope to entice, titillate and inform you, giving you the inside scoop on my life as a garden designer in words and pictures. There' s no doubting the delight i feel in creating gardens for our clients and through this blog I shall endeavour to give you a taste of the hows, whats and whys of how we create our spaces.
But I'll also let you know about gardens we have visited, plants I just feel I need to shout about, industry events I've attended, new launches and not least the successes (and failures) I've experienced in my own garden on the Hampshire/West Sussex borders. And I hope I can make you smile along the way.
So here goes, and welcome.