Garden Page

The Elliott family spent the first half of August in Central France; we have a property in a pretty village that nestles on the south bank of the River Cher, part of the Loire Valley complex of rivers.

Those who think England is the centre of the gardening world just haven’t travelled and really should get out more. In rural France, a country where genuine civic pride is still alive and well, the roads and side streets of even the smallest village are resplendent with well-tended bedding plants of the highest quality. Automatic irrigation is standard but where this is not possible a gardener is out with a tank on the back of a lorry to water every day.

We also live in a village in Bedfordshire with, by coincidence, almost exactly the same population but none of the facilities or infrastructure of our French home town. In France we have, amongst other things, three bakers, four butchers, two supermarkets, two banks, a post office, a news agent, half a dozen bars and a poodle parlour. In the UK we have none of these and just a handful of plants by the village name sign to compare with the magnificent displays in and around the high street, the market square and down to the riverside park.

Before I am accused of over-icing the French cake, I must point out that I was a judge and sponsor of England in Bloom and I am well aware how talented some of our local authority gardeners can be. I merely report what I see and I am delighted to see high quality gardening where-ever it exists. There is unfortunately quite a contrast between the average English town and its average French equivalent, in many more ways than just their planting: the cake shop in Valencay has to be seen to be believed!

I’m not allowed to do gardening when on holiday. I did do a little weeding by the front door when the family was not looking, but mostly enjoyed the public gardens on trips out into the surrounding area. We visited Bourges for the first time and were very impressed by the quality and range of bedding in their park in the old part of the town, close to the ancient cathedral. A large number of huge, newly-planted, pleached Limes provided shade when viewing the garden or, on the day we were there, shelter from the rain.

On another occasion we drove through Blois. Quickly realising we would need a full day to do it justice we carried on, but did find time to take a look at the formal rose garden on the terraces below the town hall and some amazing carpet bedding close by. We had been to Chaumont for most of the day, on our annual pilgrimage to the International Festival of Gardening, and were running out of energy anyway.

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