mr firth + mr whyte

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First of all, I have to say a huge thank you to Mr Colin Firth. He may have been at his most gorgeous as Darcy, his most repressed as George VI but I happen to think he was at his most wonderful when he spared me his Garden Designer, Mr Frederic Whyte.

Houses, I can do, but gardens are an anathema to me. Most plants, particularly flowers, have a death wish when they come near. I swear they look at me and devise the most dramatic way to die. I've tried, I really have. I even propagated my own sweet peas one year, from seeds! Their beauty however,  was short-lived as they perished due to a rare infestation of pea weevil. Now, I know what you're thinking...
“What's a girl like that doing with 2000 raspberry plants and God knows how many olive trees?”
Well it seems agriculture is my thing but making the land look pretty, is not!

Horticultural incompetence acknowledged, I laud the day a mutual friend introduced me to Freddie. With his tweed jacket and jodhpurs, he strode into my life - and my garden - like something from a BBC period drama. I was in awe. As his eyes scanned my poorly planted herbaceous borders, he politely asked.
“But who on earth is the Gardener in the family?”
“Er me” I said gingerly
“Mmmm” he sighed “we have an awful lot of work to do”.

The next week, Freddie sent me his plans. I opened the attachment and my eyes danced over words like Variation on a Theme, visual unity, restricted plant palate...even though the prose was beautiful, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I opened the most gorgeous photo of a bench dripping in wisteria. From that moment on, I knew I was in good hands.

He took me to a couple of nurseries and I trailed after him as he waved his hands at the nursery staff, pointing to plants.
“We need Electric blue spires of Perovskia to echo the form of the Salvias”
“Do we? How expensive are they? They look a bit like weeds.”
Several deep breathes and hundreds of plants later, we drove home and unloaded our bounty.

The next day our Italian gardeners arrived. Freddie conducted to the sound of;
“Steady on, we haven't even had our mid-morning snack yet. It does take three grown men to dig a hole because the ground is SO hard. Are English people always this bossy?”
After two days, his masterpiece was complete - a symphony of Achillea Terracotta, Stipa tenuissima, Euphorbia, Salvia, Caryopteris and Rosa bonica. My borders came to life. It was, and is, stunning.

Thanks once again Mr Firth and please don't take offence but I really think that the Oscar should go to Mr Frederic Whyte and my gorgeously luscious garden!

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