Once a lavoir, on the way to becoming a place to stop and relax…

About 2 years before we came to France, Andy’s Mum gave me an enchanting book, which really inspired me to want to find ways in which gardening and design can support the development of public spaces for enjoyment. This slim little book, ‘Diary of a French Herb Garden’ by the well known cookery writer, Geraldene Holt, told the story of her restoration of an ancient potager once used by the local priest of the little village of Saint Montan in the Ariege.  The small plot was about to be taken as parking space when she asked the local Conseil if they would allow her to restore it into a public aromatic garden, staying true to the memory of priests supporting the community as the apothecary. They did, she did, and the garden remains to this day as a public space.

And as time turns around and comes around, I have been asked to think about how a village public space can be transformed into an engaging and easy to care for public space, offering time to stop and think.  This tiny little plot, by an ancient ruisseau or agricultural canal, lies just beneath a very small bridge over the ruisseau, and is bounded by walls and hedges.  But, when you step down into the plot, only 9m x 8m at its widest, it does feel as if you have stepped down into the past. The small road vanishes from view, and the rushing water, and the presence of an old upended washing stone, reminds you of how hard a woman’s life was before domestic machinery.

The lavoir from the small bridge with the upended scrubbing stone visible April 15
The lavoir from the small bridge with the upended scrubbing stone visible April 15

The telegraph pole is a bit in your face to start with, but, being wood, it begins to merge into the background.  The shopping bag is mine, with my measuring tapes and whatnot in it.

The view back to the lavoir from the other side of the bridge April 15
The view back to the lavoir from the other side of the bridge April 15

You can also see that an old kneeling stone survives so that the women would have been able to stay clean-ish themselves when bending down to do the washing.

Ancient lavoir with women doing the washing Photo credit; www.fontaine-fourches.com/
Ancient lavoir with women doing the washing
Photo credit;
http://www.fontaine-fourches.com/

So, how to make this into an enchanting space? I thought I should begin with attracting attention from the road with flowering planting that will last all year, and then also keeping the palate simple with good perennial cover that will take care of itself, and colours staying within the cream-yellow-blue range, with a flash or two of pink. I have drawn a quick isonometric sketch just to give an idea…

Lavoir isonometric Apr 15

Coming from the little road, you step onto big and small paving stones towards 2 angled slate benches underneath a pergola, shaped a bit like an open book. It will need to be a strong pergola that will support the full weight of the earliest rose, Rosa banksiae lutea, which will shower down onto the pergola in April-May. This rose will be followed by the white passionflower, Passiflora caerulea ‘Constance Elliott, which will flower till the frosts. Should be a showstopper.

This is the cream version of the rose I am planning. Rosa banksiae alba plena. Just imagine this...only creamy yellow. April 2013
This is the cream version of the rose I am planning. Rosa banksiae alba plena. Just imagine this…only creamy yellow. April 2013

Rosa banksiae is tough as old boots and thornless, all good things in a public space. Another rose, Rosa Jacqueline du Pre, will be nearby flowering white and cream later from summer into autumn, bright blue Louisiana irises will cluster at the water’s edge from June till August, and Saponaria officinalis Rosea Plena, the double form of the soapwort which was often planted near lavoirs in ancient times, will provide a good splash of pink.  Earlier in the year, Helleborus orientalis will robustly flower, leaving great foliage all year and a Daphne odora ‘Aureomarginata, which we will have to wait a bit for, will scent the scene from January till March. Acanthus mollis will also fill in gaps with good greenery all year and pinkish flowers in early summer.

Let’s hope that people like the sound of it, and we all start saving plants to make it happen. With one or two purchases along the way.

Water, water everywhere…

The Ancient Mariner was dying of thirst. Today, the garden is submerged in parts as we have had so much rain. And yet, curiously, my mind turns to different ways in which water can bring emotions into the garden.  At the bottom of our garden is a ruisseau, an ancient small canal which used to bring water from our river, the Adour, into the pasturelands and fields surrounding the old village.  Never cultivated, the ruisseau was seen as purely functional, to be cleared of vegetation periodically to bring water to where it was needed.

Water brings different qualities and arouses different emotions, whether flowing or still.

Adam Frost's garden, Chelsea 2009 where gently running water was used.
Adam Frost’s garden, Chelsea 2009 where gently running water was used.
The Alcazar, Seville. Almost still water in a bowl.
The Alcazar, Seville. Almost still water in a bowl.

Jardin de la Poterie Hillen, France: contemporary stillness
Jardin de la Poterie Hillen, France: contemporary stillness
Hampton Court:  power and formal fountains
Hampton Court: power and formal fountains

Right now, outside, the ruisseau looks more like liquid mud. But in the spring and summer, with lazy light playing on it, it will look like liquid gold at times.  But, gradually, whilst not interrupting the main function as a watercourse, I am planting so that we can both reach right down to the ruisseau, and also, screen ourselves from the maize field beyond. A couple of Amelanchier ‘Obelisk’ will go in as punctation points, and an increased screening of Cornus ‘Midwinter Fire’ so that we get some bright colour in the winter and spring. Our banana, Musa basjoo,  is doing great, though looking pretty tatty right now, and the Gunnera manicata will rise again.  Think I might talk about Beth Chatto’s Water Garden next!