Minimalism in the garden

One of the joys of minimalism is that, without the burden of material possessions and the responsibilities that come with them, time is released to spend on other things. Small houses can only accommodate furniture that is both loved and needed; less junk, more clarity. Likewise, the garden. It’s noticeable here in France that people often purchase properties with too much land. Often this is deliberate, and it’s easy to do in the rural areas where you tend to get far more ‘bang for your buck’.

A friend of ours who has an unspecified (but large) amount of land himself commented recently that he noticed people, even complete strangers, would frequently open a conversation with a question about how much land he owns. Another acquaintance spent most of last summer brush-cutting the overgrown boundaries of his property so that he could measure out the exact area, despite the fact that he already has so much land that the grass has to be cut by the local farmer. In the Limousin, where land is cheap, the urge to surround yourself with a small country estate seems to be a particularly British trait.

Before - cherry tree Spring 2015

On the other hand, although some French do share the acquisitory gene, their gardens are more likely to be rather plain, simple affairs. A simple square potager to supply seasonal vegetables to the kitchen, a couple of fruit trees, a proper old-fashioned washing line and the rest laid to grass, surrounded by a simple green wire fence. Take the TGV into any large city and you’ll notice that the majority of suburban gardens contain a potager, and often a few free-range hens.

When we bought the house in La Boissonnie we inherited a modest square garden situated on the opposite side of the lane to the house, a common occurrence in France. It’s not unusual for the garden to be a short distance down the road. The previous owners were English, and very keen gardeners. There were rose bushes, perennials, shrubs and bulbs – the true English Country Garden. This was high maintenance cultivation. Without regular pruning and almost daily dead-heading nature quickly took over. Although we deliberately bought a property with what would be classed as a small garden there is still more than enough work keeping on top of the weeding, grass-cutting and hedges. Ah, the hedges…


During - it had to get worse before it got better

Each year we gradually reduced the quantity of vegetation in the garden, using the well-known ‘slash and burn’ technique. First to go were two triangles of shrubs known as ‘The Clumps’. We tried weeding the long roadside border, but eventually ripped this out together with some triangular herb beds. Once the kerb stones started to subside this feature soon lost its Versailles look. We’d reduced the weeding to a minimum, but a major bug-bear remained: the hedges. Three sides of the plot were surrounded by conifer and privet hedging that had grown to about eight feet high. Hedge cutting was a major task, taking several days and trips to the dechetterie. The more we cut it, the quicker it grew.


After...well, almost!

We’d often discussed removing the hedges but it seemed to be such a big job. How many trips to the tip would it take to get rid of the debris? After much deliberation, when some funds became available, we decided that the only way to deal with the hedge was to get a professional in. So, over the last few weeks the conifers and privet have come out, a couple of rotten tress have been felled (I was a bit sad about the big cherry tree, but we will be planting new ones), and we have a new traditional green wire fence. At last, an escape-proof garden for Bumble. If only it would stop raining long enough for us to get out in the garden and enjoy it!