The Dream...

Last December, we moved into a new house. For the first time, we have a proper garden all of our own...very exciting!

It's about thirty feet, on two levels - a gravel patio (with a great garden shed!) off our kitchen/diner, and then some steps down to a lawn area. It backs onto the grounds of some nearby flats, which have a huge sycamore growing just behind our back fence, providing privacy and a sense of being actually in the "Forest" of "Forest Hill". It has a small pear tree and some roses, but is otherwise pretty much um, a "blank canvas".

So Spouse and I had visions of turning it into a lovely relaxing woodland retreat. Spouse wants a nice springy lawn like they have in the best parks, with loads of clover and daisies, suitable for rolling around on - or perhaps that was lolling around on? - during balmy summer weekends with friends and glass of something cold. We both want raspberries. I want a succession of traditional seasonal British flowers from Spring through to November - preferably a combination of the ones from my grandparents garden, and the ones I remember my Mum growing every year when I was little. These would include lilac, camelias, lily-of-the-valley, London Pride, dahlias, cornflowers, daffodils, tulips, columbines, bluebells, lupins.... the list goes on.

And there has to be a vegetable plot.
If nothing else, a vegetable plot.
Mum grew maize and lettuces, my Grandad grew everything from onions to squashes, Spouse's parents have raspberries, rosemary and mint - to me it wouldn't be a proper garden unless something came out of it that we could eat.

Neither Spouse or I have the required skill level for this.

Spouse probably has a bit of a head start, given that he is well used to using a lawn mower. We did manage to grow some herbs on the scrubby strip of earth in our half of our old garden, and even a chilli plant in a pot one year. But although our rosemary bushes did brilliantly until the arrival of the evil purple beetle from hell, the major beneficiaries of our (my) efforts were the local slugs and hoppers.

This means that what I do in the garden will mostly reliant on

a) gardening books
b) anything I can actually remember hearing on Gardener's World
c) vague memories of What Mum or my Gran or my Grandad did
d) advice from friends
c) frantically Googling the plant/pest/problem in the hope of a sensible answer
e) guesswork.

Oh dear...