Last updated at 13:35, Monday, 26 January 2009

One lifetime does not provide enough summers for a gardener, Janet Queen reflects as pruning continues at Rose Castle, and a yew tree is sent into a state of shock

Cold winter howls across lawns, sparkles on top of freshly dug soil, settles contentedly behind north walls, and chills my fingers on January mornings. Low sunlight lingers in the orchard around midday, whitening the fresh pruning cuts on some of the oldest apple trees.
Intricate, time-consuming pruning continues throughout winter and provides finishing touches to larger-scale renovation work in the orchard that began in November. Nature’s own dispersal of light and shade required some intervention if the orchard was to continue thriving and being so productive.
During the past two years, it has become obvious that fruit trees we planted a decade ago have been struggling to maintain well-branched, bushy shapes, and their leaders have become lean and lanky in their search for light. Responsibility for this lies mainly with a large, aged English yew and two holly trees growing on the south side of the orchard.
The hollies were dealt with easily by removing their lower branches and thinning their crowns. The effect was twofold – more light reaches the orchard, and the shapeliness of the bare, grey holly stems is now an attractive feature.
The yew tree, however, has been more demanding and the cause of much angst. All of its classically arching and upward sweeping branches had to be removed leaving only the main trunk. We visualise this yew tree in years to come as a neatly clipped block of dark foliage, continuing its life as part of the garden, but flourishing symbiotically with the orchard.
At the moment, however, it is surely in a state of shock. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. Drastic pruning was the only available option that allowed us to keep the yew and, at the same time, ensure the health and development of the orchard. Although I know it will be a matter of only three years before dense new growth sprouting from the trunk will cover the pruning cuts, I find it almost impossible not to whisper my apologies to the yew as I walk past every morning on my way to let out the geese.
It seems hardly any time at all since I was putting aside separate heaps of seed potatoes as I worked my way along the drills, digging up and bagging last year’s harvest in July and August. The potatoes selected for seed were laid in wooden boxes and stored in a cold, dark shed that used to function as a pantry in the days before fridges. Now, the boxes are taken from the dark and laid out in the potting shed.
The potatoes are chitting – exposed to the light that will encourage short, sturdy shoots to develop during the next couple of months. Some varieties, such as ‘Ratte’ and ‘Belle de Fontenay’ have already produced shoots, but in their desperation to escape the darkness the shoots have become long and stringy like thin, opalescent worms. I remove them completely; they are of no use to the potatoes, and besides, other young, more robust shoots will appear. Twenty-two varieties of seed potatoes are now laid out to chit and will be ready for planting in late March or April, depending on the weather.
Diligence with mouse traps is called for at the moment – mice are very fond of a midnight banquet of chitting potatoes in the bishop’s potting shed.
The boxes of potatoes take up a lot of room, but there is still one bench left for mixing compost and potting. Lily bulbs arrive from the suppliers this month, packed in bags of sawdust or wood shavings and ready to be potted. I treat them the same way as I plant tulips – each group of four or five bulbs is laid in a bed of sand beneath the compost so that they are not surrounded by excess moisture during spells of prolonged wet weather. Already, I am looking forward to the sweet, summer perfume of ‘Casa Blanca’ captured within courtyards and wafting over walls. This is one of the finest lilies for containers, and a variety that will flower well in successive years if repotted every winter.
I try my best to exercise restraint when ordering from seed catalogues. There are several varieties I rely upon, year after year, to provide dependable crops of vegetables and cut flowers for the castle, but there are also catalogue descriptions of new varieties, memories of plants I have seen growing in gardens I have visited, and plants that I would like to try.
I came to the conclusion a long time ago that one lifetime does not provide enough summers for a gardener. But as steam rises from hot coffee, and streams of condensation run down misted kitchen windows, I know that ordering seeds and planning ahead for spring and summer is still the best antithesis to a wild, stormy January day.

First published at 11:09, Monday, 26 January 2009
Published by http://www.cumbrialife.co.uk