Merrist Wood College – view from the main house taken during my second week on the horticulture course

I would never have fathomed a year ago I would be writing a blog post in a little village in south Oxfordshire.

In September 2011 I put my best steel toe-cap boot forward in the general direction of horticulture having given up my job to study the BTEC National Diploma in Horticulture

How deep did you say you wanted these bulbs planted?

full-time at Merrist Wood College. The academic year flew past and I found myself exiting the college gates for the last time on 4th July. My student days were over and it was time to enter the big wide gardeners’ world. It was my independence day.

Some time has passed since I last blogged. Regrettably, this task slipped down the priority list during early summer as I snatched every last opportunity to study or gain further work experience . The workload in those last months at college was relentless and was coupled with the knowledge I needed to start earning in my new profession. This meant application forms, covering letters, CV updating and job interviews. Each weekend and every college holiday was dedicated to processing knowledge, drafting coursework and building up my practical gardening know-how. Each week brought with it a mounting pile of deadlines across all subject areas: plant machinery, turf management, propagation, garden design, garden structures, science, management and establishment of plants. Each time we completed one assessment; two more took its place.

Before you pull out your tiny violins, I realise I probably should have expected this. Except that I didn’t. Fortunately, there were others on the course who had committed themselves to a new start at the expense of another career. It was rare for us to all lose the plot all at the same time so there was usually somebody on the end of the phone, text, email when you realised that the articles you were researching on the use of genetic manipulation in plant breeding were more than a little perplexing. Then before we knew it, the course was over.

My new job

What better way to celebrate going straight from work to studying at college and sacrificing weekends and holidays, than a lovely long holiday? My thoughts exactly. It turns out though, when somebody offers you a job in a gardens you’ve seen on the telly that made you think ‘wouldn’t it be great to work there’, you finish college, pack the car and move to Oxfordshire in the same week. Well, they do say a change is as good as a holiday. I now find myself seven weeks into the three month gardens intern role at Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons. I never thought I would hear myself say that at the beginning of my garden ramble.

Strangely, I have been feeling fairly calm about the jobless vacuum lying before me. Possibly the building mound of assignments mixed in with my volunteer work experience has adequately occupied the ‘worrying’ part of my brain, crowding out the concerns of finding work. It has, however, been preying on my mind sufficiently enough to motivate me to do something about it, without causing me to meltdown with my head in my hands repeating ‘What have I done? What am I going to do? What has it all been for?’, which is reminiscent of the ending of my last career. Reflecting back on those bad, sad feelings and seeing how they have diminished to be replaced with the excitement and anticipation of beginning a career in something I love doing, makes me very happy.

I received my first knock-back from a gardener bursary scheme not so long ago. It was my very first application for a role requiring far more knowledge and experience than I had yet to gain. It was disappointing, but not unexpected. The process was very useful in making me focus on the type of things that were important to me and what to include in my job applications. It forced me to think about what I really wanted.

Daffodils enjoying the rain at Hampton Court

At one point, there was a fleeting opportunity of a seasonal job at Hampton Court, but I have college until the beginning of July and the seasonal staff had to start in May.

Just before the Easter holidays, a tutor brought a job to my attention. It was for a gardens internship in Oxfordshire. It sounded like an amazing opportunity and I genuinely thought I had no chance of success. Initially I dismissed the idea of applying. I live in Surrey for a start. But it sparked enough interest for me to fantasise ‘What if?’. The work involved would be in a renowned kitchen garden. Maybe I would apply afterall? Over the Easter holiday, I trawled the internet looking for the job advertisement. I could not find it anywhere. I concluded I was too late.

Then, by chance, sitting at my laptop on a rainy Sunday doing some coursework, whilst looking for a copy of a science assessment coversheet, I accidentally discovered the gardens internship advert PDF file tucked away on the college intranet. The application deadline was the next day. Without hesitation, I pulled up my CV and began work on a covering letter. After triple checking spelling and grammar, I pinged off the documents in an email. Moments later an automated email arrived warning me that they had been inundated with applications and if I heard nothing back, I had been unsuccessful. Who was I kidding? I wasn’t going to hear anything. I had an updated CV and a covering letter with which I was really pleased, so applying had not been a complete waste of time. I settled back down to my plant physiology homework.

At 5.10pm the next day I received a telephone call from a private number. I assumed it was somebody calling to tell me I may have had an accident that wasn’t my fault or that I deserved compensation for mis-sold payment protection insurance. Unusually for me, I suspiciously answered the phone. It was an impromptu telephone interview for the job! I came off the phone with my heart thumping. My mum asked if I was alright as I entered the kitchen looking very flushed. ‘You’re not going to believe who just called me’, I said.

I was told my CV would be passed to the head gardener for her consideration and would hear soon if I had been selected for an interview. I anxiously waited for the call and two days later I had to duck out of a propagation class to take it. It was good news.

I travelled up to Oxfordshire for an interview with the inspiring head gardener and was made to feel very welcome. My nerves were overcome by my bursting enthusiasm for why I wanted to work in horticulture and why I wanted to work there. I was treated to a tour of the gardens and learnt more about the internship role, what was expected of the successful applicant and what they could expect to experience.

Working at Kew Palace before the rain arrived

After what felt like the longest May bank holiday weekend ever, I received a voicemail message. I was working at the time. Hampton Court had kindly allowed me to help out for a day with the finishing touches at Kew Palace kitchen garden. I saw a missed call on my phone from a private number. Having wiped my muddy hands on my jeans from where soil had found its way through the stitching of my sodden gloves and finding shelter in the van, I eagerly tapped into the message that had been left. I had to listen to it twice just to make sure I had heard it correctly over the noise of the driving rain hitting the van roof. The voice told me I was going to be sent a formal offer letter. I had got the job!

I am delighted and astonished to write that I will be starting my gardens internship in July. It is no garden variety job. I will be working all summer at Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons. My budding career begins.

On a dark early January morning I found myself alone and isolated. All I could hear was the crunch of the frosted grass beneath my feet as I made my way through the low lying mist. I pulled the collar of my coat up around my neck as I felt a chill gathering around me. I heard a twig crack behind me and snapped my head round, but could see nothing. I could see no one. I found a large rickety gate. Could this be it? Despite the cold, my hands were clammy. I scrambled trying to unlock the gate. I dropped my gloves to the ground, but still the catch wouldn’t release. My fingers were numb from the freezing cold and wouldn’t follow the instructions from my racing mind. I could feel sweat prickling my skin. I heard something behind me… distant footsteps quickening in pace, getting closer. I jammed my boot under the gate and flexed my foot, pushing the steel toecap hard up against the metal bar in an effort to lift it a few millimetres. The gate catch released, emitting a loud creak as I pushed it open. Snatching up my gloves, I lurched forward slamming the gate behind me. I reached into my pocket for my sharpened knife and braced myself. I was ready.

Scions

Yes, I had been finishing some work in the classroom and was racing down to the nursery stock ground to meet up with my classmates to collect scions. Turns out I wasn’t the last to join my group and I apologised for closing the gate on my friend. I was just making sure no sneaky rabbits could make their way in. It turns out I only needed secateurs for this exercise. We were collecting scions. A sharp knife was for the next phase.

Grafting

For years I have been eating apples in blind ignorance of how they are propagated. It was only a few years ago when I came across a BBC documentary ‘Apples: British to the Core’ and Alys Fowler’s show ‘The Edible Garden’ that I discovered grafting was necessary to propagate a specific fruit variety e.g. the Bramley apple. Rudimentarily, it involves sticking a twig of one type of fruit tree to a compatible root stock. The rootstock determines the size and vigour of the plant. The possibilities are endless. In the October 2009 issue of RHS ‘The Garden’ magazine, there is a picture of Paul Barnett’s apple tree on to which he has grafted 250 cultivars of apple.

Is this really going to work?

I had been preparing for this moment for some time. In previous weeks, I had honed my knife sharpening skills on a Victorinox grafting knife until I was confident I would not make a mess of my shiny new TINA grafting knife – a beautifully crafted tool with one

It's not just a stick. It's a special stick.

bevelled side perfect for the job in hand. After practising my cuts on bits of twig, I made my incisions into the scion taken from a Malus tschonoskii and into the rootstock, slicing away to reveal the cambium layer. Carefully, I matched up the exposed wounds of the scion and rootstock so the cambiums were sitting flush against one another and bound them together to create a union. After painting over with wax, I placed it in the glasshouse by resting the union on a warm pipe. I then tucked it in with a roll of material and covered the roots with compost. Then waited and hoped.

Last week, in the driving rain I made my way over to the glasshouse. Flashes of lightning reached across the dark grey sky. A deep rumble of thunder rolled through the nursery as I held the grafted scion aloft – IT WAS ALIVE! The static and moisture in the air as well as the high winds helped to really frizz up my hair, adding to the deranged scientist look. You’ll have to take my word for it because I won’t be posting that photograph here. Far from creating a monster, I had successfully fused one type of tree with another using a method that has been around for centuries.

With my new found knowledge I intend to find an apple tree with a minimum of two cultivars for my own small garden space, which I can grow in a container. I’ll be looking for a spur-bearing apple, as opposed to a tip bearing one, on a M26 rootstock to keep it small. All I need to do now is work out which cultivars I find most tasty. I think an October visit to Brogdale Farm’s apple festival might be in order.

My creation

Painshill Park

During the first weekend of the break I finally visited Painshill Park. It is not far from where I live, so I have few excuses for why it’s taken me this long to take a look. I felt the restorative affect upon entering this property in the sunshine, fresh air. After feeling a bit poorly the previous week, I benefitted from taking in the lovely views and enjoying the plants for enjoyments sake. I tried not to learn stuff on my walk round, but I couldn’t help it. I was particularly taken with the Amphitheatre. I’d like to say that a year of study allows me to tell you that the planting style taken from the Duke of Norfolk’s plans of the 1740s is that of the Italian renaissance with six tiers of evergreen planting contrasting shape, texture, light and shade in a ‘painterly manner’. In actual fact, that would be plagiarism of the Painshill Park’s useful information display at the entrance to the Amphitheatre. It’s always good to log the language for later use though.

Nymans

The lovely sunshine continued and I opted to work two days at Nymans and a day at Hampton Court. Nyman’s gardens look spectacular. Along with the other volunteers, I was treated to a plant identification tour with the deputy head gardener and did my best to absorb a fraction of his encyclopaedic plant knowledge. The Easter trail appeared to be a hit with the kids, though I took cover from the chocolate fuelled children by weeding and edging in the rock and heather gardens. Although I ‘m not a huge chocolate eater myself, I always find myself craving toblerone after a visit to Nymans, I can’t imagine why…

Nymans and toblerone hedge

Hampton Court saw my first dull weather day working there just before the bank holiday weekend. The planting looked great and it was just a matter of adding those finishing touches – mowing, edging, raking of sand, watering the urns of Auriculas. Judging from the weather we had over the long weekend, this last job wasn’t vital, though the feed seems to have galvanised them into a mass of flowering judging from what I saw of them yesterday.

Hampton Court Palace Gardens - southside

One of my big highlights of the break was meeting @haplessgardener in person, being a big fan of his blog Growing-up. He is a top bloke and I’m not just saying that because he patiently allowed me to talk at him about horticulture, my course and reasons for changing career. When he had the opportunity to speak, his enthusiasm for gardening, sustainability and rowing is equally compelling. I also caught up with friends I’ve been neglecting as a result of studying and coursework deadlines.

It is going to be a tough couple of months ahead as horticulture activity reaches its height and the seasonally dependent course content adds to the workload. I think I’ve just seen the end to a break until July. Bring it on.

Hopefully helping and not hindering the progress of the new South African garden at Nymans. Behind me is all change in the Sunken Garden as part of the Garden Rediscovery project.

With the Easter break just around the corner (though a classmate reliably informs me that we have roughly eight assignments to do during the holidays, so perhaps the word ‘break’ should be redefined), I finally succumbed to the lurgy. I had lurgy in October, but battled through and didn’t miss any college. This was helped by only having light physical tasks to do that week. However, this time there was no such luck. I woke up with a sore throat Sunday morning and BOOM I was down. I reflected on a plant science lesson in which we learnt about cell structures. In a slight tangent to the syllabus, our teacher explained about mitochondria in humans. I can’t remember the detail right now, but I know viruses make you tired because of their impact on the power houses of our cells – mitochondria. I saw an extreme example at my last workplace when a colleague returned to work after having swine flu. He was still recovering, but with bills to consider and knowing that we were not entitled to sick pay during our six month probation period, he struggled into work. In the end, an ambulance had to pick him up from the office and fortunately he made a full recovery from post-viral fatigue. Happy days.

Even though I’m a volunteer and I pay to study my course, I feel guilty. Most of us do when we have to call in sick. We are worried it will look bad, show a lack of commitment or let down our colleagues who have to pick up the slack. In my previous role there was a key performance indicator linked to attendance on which we were appraised. Perhaps losing my job in a recession has increased the fear factor, even though I have no job to lose.

It does concern me that I am entering a world that needs you to be fighting fit. In a week where I have been under the weather and two of my horticulture buddies have been absent or will soon be absent through no fault of their own, it is certainly a vulnerability I need to consider and minimise. Then again you can’t protect yourself from needing your appendix whipped out or having your arm surgically rebroken because it wasn’t set correctly the first time. (Those two boys better make a quick recovery and get back to class after the holidays. It won’t be half the fun without them).

All this points to me needing to take some time to relax. Stepping from a job straight into a new course, moving back home and homework in the holidays may have taken its toll. I’m going to give myself a few days off in the next couple of weeks. I’m going to start with a day out at RHS Wisley. Not to learn about plants, but to enjoy it (osmosis learning is permitted) and pop up to Putney for the boat race, weather permitting. Then I will be ready for the summer term.

Enjoy your Easter break.

I could not believe my luck when a volunteer position became available just down the road from me. For the past month I’ve been working at Hampton Court Palace Gardens one day a week. It has been great and now I am half way through my National Diploma in Horticulture, I feel much more confident in a gardens environment. I have been made to feel very welcome and I am well on my way to completing the 300 hours work experience necessary for the course. I still have a spare day in the week plus weekends to complete coursework. I felt I was all set. Then I received an invitation.

It came from the head gardener of National Trust’s beautiful gardens at Nymans on the Sussex Weald. I hold my hands up and admit I had not heard of the place until I started following Nymans on twitter. On the promise of being shown some well flocculated sandy loam by @nymansed, I jumped in the car and headed south. If you have the opportunity, I urge you to visit. Actually, scrub that. Make time to go there. It is truly breathtaking, with stunning views of the South Downs. I was treated to a two hour enthusiastic information onslaught. It was essentially one to one private tuition on my favourite subject.

I really cannot do it justice here on just how incredible I found this place. So of course, you can imagine my response when I was offered the opportunity of working there voluntarily one day a week with a high level of supervision and training and petrol covered. Well, I went against my impulse to say ‘YES!’ and said I would think about it. I have just four months of my course left. The coursework is piling up to scary altitudes and I am on target of reaching the 300hours without this extra experience, which is probably a nasty commute on the M25, let alone that bit of motorway past Gatwick. In fact, I have little to no spare time. I slept on it. Spoke to my mum. Spoke to my boyfriend. When I say spoke, what I mean is I told them that I had been offered a dream role and I was going to do it and to hell with the consequences. With their support and understanding, I contacted Nymans and organised to start next week. Initially, I’m aiming for a 07.30 start in an attempt to avoid the traffic. I am hoping this will change to a later time once I have a feel for traffic issues. I chatted to my tutors and explained my concerns that a ‘distinction’ would be a push with working two days a week, but I am still aiming for it.

I only have a few months left before I receive my qualification. It’s not long in the grand scheme of things and it is a short term sacrifice for a long term gain. I promise I will try to cling on to that thought when my alarm goes off early on Monday morning.

This burning desire to understand the difference between a loamy sand and a sandy loam revealed itself in a semi-disastrous bread-making episode before Christmas. I’m not really familiar with the vocabulary of baking, but I am furnished with the words ‘crumb’ and ‘compaction’. The bread seemed to have the properties more likely associated with a combination of Bagshot sand and clay on which it had been raining for four days with a tractor parked on it(probably a Massey Ferguson MF 8480). The structure was disappointing, with few air spaces making it very dense. Fortunately it was the festive period, so after plying the family with a few sherries and disguising the sunflower loaded slices of wholemeal slates with layers of cheese and chutney, they dutifully ate it.

To my delight, my science tutor asked us to bring in a soil sample from home. After five minutes of the (im)mature students (me and at least four others) making various jokes/puns/innuendos about soil samples, we scribbled down a reminder to bring in the sample to be collected 24 hours before the day we were due to test the p.H.

I was working at the college nursery and horticulture unit the day before our science lesson. By the time I returned home it was dark and pouring down with rain, but I was not deterred. Ready with my empty ‘Chilli Jam’ jar, a trowel and a torch, I strode out into the darkness. I remembered the border areas where the urban foxes sometimes like to leave a little present and steered clear.

Testing soil p.H.- the truth is out there

The next day in the laboratory, we set out our array of soil and set out on mixing it with chemicals in a test tube in the name of science. We set the tubes at an angle and waited for the solids to separate from the liquids to reveal the truth. Mine seemed to appear a fairly neutral green. It wasn’t really a surprise or a fair test – I hadn’t collected a number of samples from walking in a ’W’ shape across the garden, but I did get to mix chemicals and look like I knew what I was doing. There are no Rhododendrons where I live, Skimmias do badly and I keep my blueberry bushes in pots as acid this soil is not.

The best lesson I learnt that day was to go outside, dig up some earth and take it into your bare hands. Look at it carefully, rub it between your fore finger and thumb and listen to it. Roll it into a ball, then squish it. Does it fall apart or flatten out. Does it smear? What colour is it? We dug up soil from around the college site. Knowing that soil is made up of water, hummus, lime and clay, and considering our orientation, the use of the land and by looking at it and how it breaks up, we can find out a lot about soil and assess the porosity and permeability of it without the need for laboratory equipment.

I recently received an invitation from the Head Gardener at Nymans to check out some well flocculated loam. After looking up what this meant, I gratefully accepted (I was very chuffed when the flocculation process came up in our next science lesson). I have a few more soil lessons before my visit so I hope to come across as vaguely more knowledgable than I am now. In any event, it will be good practise for some fantasy future audience participation at ‘Gardeners Question Time’.

Then I discovered another side to horticulture and a darker side of myself. Hacking, cutting, sawing, pruning, digging, edging. Keeping tools honed and sharp so that I can effectively slice through the tissues and vessels of plant growth. Seeking, destroying and clearing entire areas. There is something immensely satisfying about it all. It turns out that winter is not necessarily the time to hang up my secateurs. I realise there is a higher purpose to it all in that I am preparing the ground, gardens and plants for spring time. Guiltily, I am enjoying the demolition and destruction.

Should wear hard hat and visor, but this proves it is me

I discovered the psychological benefit of the destruction (or more probably, the fresh air and exercise). I had a bit of a wobble over Christmas time about my decision to walk away from law and seek a new path to horticulture. I knew it was bound to happen at some point and, in a way, I am glad it did. Feeling a little scared is a great motivator and it has made me focus on my next steps. Returning to college after the Christmas holidays, I am even more determined to succeed. There is nothing quite like a frosty, cold, crisp morning of digging up trees with a spade to clear your head. Especially when you know that after this row, there will be enough room to manoeuvre the tractor and bare root lifting machine for some proper digging.

Nursery stock ground - tree digging time

The first thing that struck me when I awoke from my slumber on the first day of 2012 was chilli seeds then homework. Chilli seeds because February is the month I can start planting them. Homework because it is due in next week.

Books all set up ready to go

I managed to restrain myself from raiding the seed tin to find out what I still have in stock and whether it remains viable. I settled down to a big mug of tea and I set out my plant science books on the table. Except, I noticed the carpets were in real need of a vacuum. Then the house plants needed watering. Then I gave the kitchen a bit of a once over and finished off with dead heading the cyclamen. By the time I did all that, it was lunchtime. After some investigation of the fridge, I discovered bacon that needed eating. I revived a day old French stick, added ketchup and enjoyed a delicious bacon butty before doing the washing up. A cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice later, I was ready to continue with some plant science work. However, it has been preying on my mind that I have not blogged for some time, what with generally procrastinating and Christmas stuff. So here I am.

Of course then I thought I could decide my new year resolution(s). Maybe it should be ‘Stop phaffing around and get on with your homework, it won’t do itself you know’. Regretfully, that task will have to wait. I’ve just seen some recycling at the back door to which I need to attend.

My first time - thinking through 'start' checklist

I never realised I held this secret ambition of driving tractors, but since discovering it was a mandatory part of the horticulture course, I’ve been like a child before Christmas. I have no idea why I am so excited about it and I have no inclination to analyse the possible reasons behind it (I suspect it might not show me in the best light).

Yep, she's ready to go

I have just completed my second tractor lesson. Our class had discussed the health and safety issues of which we needed to be aware and we watched a gruesome HSE video on bad things that happen to people who don’t respect the tractor. Then after conducting the pre-start checks (involving dipsticks, fuel and coolant levels amongst other things), we were ready.

Off we went onboard these large powerful machines, weaving our way amongst the arborists having their tractor lesson with whom we were sharing the ground. I gave them a wide berth. Those guys know no fear.

I do have more tractor lessons coming up, but I just couldn’t wait that long to share my new favourite topic with you.

Tractors with trailers - done