Title William Robinson- Irelands great Gardener.

Opening: An Old Man remembers Ireland.

In 1936

In the great house of Graveyte Manor in the Shire of Sussex the old Irish garden visionary William Robinson(97) lay dying .The father of the 20^th century natural garden movement , he remembered fondly his first experiences as a young garden apprentice in 1852 in the estate of Curraghmore County Waterford. A 14 year old boy ferrying water in buckets from the local river to the green houses. Now over 80 years later he thought of his probable current counterpart apprentice gardener sleeping and working in the same bothy and in a kind of gesture from the 19^th century to the 20^th he willed his hugely popular book “The English Flower Garden” be sent to him to read . The gesture carried within itself a huge journey, the journey that Robinson had made over his own life time. From a humble apprentice gardener in Ireland to becoming the seer of English gardening and the landlord of a huge estate,1000acres, in Sussex.

Body:

But who was William Robinson? He became the great gardener/ publishing entrepreneur of the late Victorian age and the beginning of the 20^th century. He was a kind of horticultural Murdoch for his age..

His book “The Wild Garden” is his proclamation. In it he broadcasts his vision.

“So ,he writes, I began to get an idea that there was much beauty in our native flowers and trees and then came the thought that if there was so much in our own island flora, what might we not look for from the hills and valleys of the countries of the world.”

So Robinson had a vision that a Garden could become a kind of Eden where all the plants of the world could be aesthetically gathered together, not as in a botanic garden as specimens but as a garden masterpiece.

. He promoted a style of gardening informed by Nature. Examples like a drift of daffodils in the woodland or a primrose on a mossy bank.That was the vision.. He preached that gardeners return to Nature as their muse. For the rest of his long life he promoted his philosophy especially in the ground breaking book “The English Flower Garden” which in its seventeen editions up to the 1970’s informed and even bullied, the shaping of many of the great gardens of the British Isles ,especially of Ireland where now the title “Robinsonian” garden is worn as a badge of honour by many of the still surviving great Irish gardens Mount Usher, Fernhill, Annesgrove,Illnacullen,Rowallane,Kilmacurragh.

Irish origins a mystery.

There is no doubt that he was Irish even though there is no definite evidence as to where he was born.

Did he even really start gardening in Curraghmore? About 15 years after Robinson’s death the BBC broadcaster Geoffrey Taylor reported a notorious incident that Robinson was involved in which throws doubts on him ever working even in Curraghmore. The story goes that in the late 1850’s or early 1860’s Robinson was employed by the Reverend Sir Hunt Johnston-Walsh to work in his demesne at Ballykilcavan, situated outside Stradbally, County Laois.

This story was broadcast on the BBC in 1948 and subsequently published in The Listener “Robinson had a sudden quarrel with his employer”. Following their argument, Robinson “felt affronted” and took revenge by drawing out the fires in the furnaces that heated the glasshouses at Ballykilcavan and opened all the windows of the glasshouses .Then, after this act of vandalism he left. It was a bitterly cold night and many of the tender plants perished. The rebellious Robinson walked all the way from Stradbally to the door of the Director of the Royal Dublin Society’s Botanic Gardens in Glasnevin, David Moore and threw himself at his mercy. Whatever happened between the two men, surprisingly, Robinson left in exile with a glowing reference which obtained for him a coveted position as undergardener in the Royal Society of London’s Botanic gardens. From then on his gardening career and reputation rose rapidly in his adopted country.

End. Will Ireland Remember?

Now in the middle of 2010,when I first conceived this piece Robinson was forgotten unread, and unloved in England, unlike his disciple Gertrude Jekyll.. I then made a plea that we Irish reclaim and remember him as an Irishman . But then like waiting for one publishing “bus” many came along this year . In England a new major biography was published and then two new glorious editions of “The Wild Garden” were launched in the last few months . If you want a taste of Robinson do one thing. Go. Visit and stand on the Palm lawn of Mount Usher county Wicklow .Look west and there is his garden symphony, a Beethoven symphony, that Robinson dreamed 140 years ago and is now performed daily in Mount Usher . All the great trees of the world, The Tulip tree from the Southern States ,the Umbrella Pine from Japan to the great Southern Beeches of the Andes amongst them all growing and playing companionably together. A site unique and nowhere else to be found on our planet. Nothing like it anywhere in the world. Marvel and remember who composed it. William Robinson, gardener. Maybe a maverick, maybe a man of mystery but an Irishman.

Buying a small garden tree.

Introduction:

. Based on my own experience as a gardener, these are a few practical points on buying a small garden tree in the Dublin area. When I say a small garden tree I mean a small tree suitable for a small space for an apartment verandah to a suburban garden . I will give my brief tree preferences and the definite not’s.

I see you on a weekend morning heading off in a an average family car ,like a Ford Focus ,Golf to make your purchase and bringing it home.

1. Body of speech.

2. Unsuitable Trees – Large trees, beech, horse chestnut .

3. Exotic trees (cordylines, gum ,Tree ferns.) Conifers especially Leylandii –one day you will turn away and when you turn back it will have blotted out the sun.It grows that fast.

4. All the Suitable trees have one thing in common They are all deciduous ( they lose their leaves and will define the seasons beautifully) .From the hopeful flowers of cherries , hawthorn , magnolia in spring ,into the summer calm of green leaves and shade of birches to the fireworks of autumn shown in the leaves of acers and mountain ash ,the jewelled berries of crab apples and the red haws of hawthorns . Then the year ends in the quiet scent of a winter flowering cherry .Prunus Autumnalis. Throughout the season remember there will be birds –the golden beaks of Blackbirds , the wings of finches , the rinsing ring of thrushes..

1. .Where to buy.

2. A.Multiples-Lidls, Homebase, Band Q’s, Woodies.

3. Garden centres-Newlands cross, Johnstown, Murphy and Wood Johnstown Road.

4. Nurseries-only for trade.

5. Marriage of garden centre-Nursery. Scalp and Blakes , Lusk.You buy in this establishment.This is the ideal place to buy.

6. Examine pot.

7. Rootball- a. too small in the pot.b. rootbound.

8. Stem. Tree

9. Stake, tree tie and a bag of compost.

10. Loading the tree into your car.-Get help from the staff that is what they are there for.

11. Driving home. Unload.

Plant trees. In the carbon age.

Why?

1. The opening. Cork city man Paddy Mahony diabetic overweight and older looking than his actual years woke up to the sound of his neighbours beating on his door Friday night November 20th 2009 . As he clambered in a confused state out of his bed he found himself stepping to his great surprise into two feet of water. Paddy is a victim, a victim of the meteorological clock that winds up in the North Atlantic almost daily. . The warm winds of the Gulf of Mexico enter into a dance of war with the cold winds coming from the North Pole. Where? Around Newfoundland and then in a demented passé doble careers across the Atlantic the warm air in flight from the cold lightening its load of water and dumping torrents right into the British Isles. The weather dance becomes more intense in late autumn –winter. And as the globe warms these storms are becoming more violent. .
2. Besides being a victim of meteorology Paddy is also a victim of history, the industrial history of the last 200 years. Mankind has heated the atmosphere by countless burning of fossil fuels. Before the 19^th century the only fossil fuel extensively used was wood which didn’t increase global warming as more trees took up the carbon dioxide exhaled by the burning of the previous generation of trees.
3. But it was when the fossilised trees of geological ages began to be burnt that the earths atmosphere was on its way to carbon overload. With the coming of the steam age man began to exploit the carbon dioxide that was stored in the earth long before historical times . Carbon dioxide lay trapped in the ground underneath from the carboniferous age when great rain forests amidst huge swamps grew and fell and rotted and in time hardened into great seams of hard rock , coal, a reservoir of energy waiting to be burnt. Coal ,the fossilised fuel of the 19^th century . The steel mills and railways sent huge clouds of carbon into the sky.
4. Pollution is global. It is not confined to the country or to the time that pollutes. So the November rain storms of 2009 that sent Paddy O Mahony out of his bed may well be the result of the carbon that was sent into the sky in 1899.
5. What deluges then await us because of the carbon released by the most carbon polluting century in the history of the world? The 20^th century. We are condemned to even greater rain and wind in some future year of the 21^st century the climatologists claim there will be ever greater floods and storms. A great one Every 6or 7 years is the prediction. We will be condemned to a great flood 2016 or 2017?as,. What can we do? We can only await our fate with courage and foresight. The inevitability of heavier rain and stronger winds is certain. As Mary Robinson has said “We are in it now” Governments especially the Irish Government can build greater infrastructure to cope with swollen rivers . Coming to my plea regarding trees . See them as part of the solution to keeping our children and grandchildren dry and safe in their beds
6. My plea is that all those housing developments built on river plains be abandoned, replaced by great stands of native trees. All our rivers will become tree lined and as we move away from the river vallies towards the mountains belts of hardier trees, native to Europe, will provide great shelter belts sweep across the countryside. That will be the work of government and Coillte. What can you do ?
7. You also
8. Can plant trees! If you have no plants in your front garden and have removed them for a car park you are contributing to flash floods. Every front garden should grow one garden tree. Grow a shelter belt at your back boundary. All this shrubbery and trees will improve the water retaining ability of the ground and the land will, despite the heavier rain, be able to store far more water and to release the water more gradually. Our tree cover at the moment is a mere 10% of the landscape, one of the lowest in Europe. Once in the 16^th century it was possible for a squirrel to cross this wooded island, tree to tree from Dublin to Galway. We must aim for 40% of the land covered in trees. Where there is one tree now there should be 4.
9. Besides the country becoming more water retentive there will be other advantages
10. The land will store more carbon dioxide in the trees shrubs, falling leaves and roots . The ecology of insects microbes birds and others up the food chain will increase and multiply. If all these woods seems to fail in the bad years in the face of ever increasing rain , it will only be a seeming failure . There will be the good years in between and think of the leaves of spring, the dawn chorus of birds , the sylvan cool of summer and the golden autumns of each year amidst our trees both in our own gardens and in our great sylvan sweeps of countryside .We will have the poetry of what Joyce Kilmer celebrated and prophesised. We will return as a Celtic people to our culture ,,a woodland people who once venerated and will venerate once again our trees . They will save and inspire the Irish people, keep our old warm in winter, the workers employed cool in summer and our future generation dry throughout the whole year .
11. Plant trees.

The Ballad of the Man from Carrick.

There once were men whose only dream

Was to be in wind and rain

Who pushed their tired bodies through every ditch and drain.

Great wins they won in many a field and park

Fashioned not on all weather tracks or heated gyms

But on cold cold roads and lonely lanes in the dark.

Today’s grey men who had that one simple precious thing –the will to win.

2.

On windswept nights a lonely figure runs out on dark black roads

His lively mind alight with dreams only found, away from kitchen fire, great halls and warm abodes.

His longing heart driven by a vision of that one and only single prize,

First, found at last, at the release of the winning line and all those human cries.

3.

Such a figure was our hero and man Donie Turner

The1960’s ushered in his era as a runner

He was from the townland of Carrick which means, I’m told, a Rock

And he was not a man, I can tell you, you were ever likely to dare to mock.

4.

He was our Gallant captain for the great Grange cross-country team

When the gun sounded over the fields he was always to the fore

Bursting through in the blue and gold over every ditch and stream

And kept driving on until his opponents broke and could do no more.

5.

Sad verse.

Alas it was on a black December day he met what was to him a deep dark defeat

In a mad moment in Bandon he turned, saw the tape beckon and victory seemed complete

Then in a breath the win was snatched by the burst and sprint of Sean Brosnan

A great barefoot runner of the old style and the all mighty Meelin champion.

6.

Deprived and defeated the determined Turner could only think of a runner’s revenge

Vowed in Carrick, that Christmas season would end in his chance to avenge

Where to the high fields of the Rising Sun deep in the folds of Mid Cork

He would prove to all the world that he could be a grim and great victor.

Chorus There once were men…..

7.

The Grange team then was the number one, invincible , hungry enough to win,

With Buckley, O’Reilly, Roche, the venerable Jonny Beechinor and powerful John Mehigan.

At the sound of the gun only one man seemed that day to run

Intent that all would toil in his wake, a single force of mind focussed in beating Brosnan.

8.

The front running revenge worked. This Buckley balladeer, not then reciting but later , at the end of lap one

Passed a very spent, dejected , disconsolate and silent barefoot Brosnan

While it seemed on the distant hills those driven legs danced away from us as if in a trance

This was destined to never become a race, but an honorary procession.

9.

All the runners on that day paid homage to the cross-country king

Donie Turner from Carrick Cork Cross-Country Champion.

When he plotted a victory and he won, all his team mates were greeted with a wicked wink and grin

But at the finish his face was sad, serious, care worn and even grim.

10.

This was a victory that had hurt hard and was something of the heart

Now was not the time for us to shout and roar but quietly depart

So he stood head down, mentally alone, strength totally gone

And accepted our warm outstretched hands and congratulations.

11

The old man Christy Turner sat and watched his own fireside roar,

Listening through the wind and rain for the lift of the latch on the door.

All at once there he was on this same kitchen floor – his one and only son

The same, but changed, transformed as in a dream

Donie, my own, my champion.

Chorus:

There once were men whose only dream

Was to be in wind and rain

Who pushed their tired bodies through every ditch and drain?

Great wins they won in many a field and park

Fashioned not on all weather tracks or heated gyms

But on cold cold roads and lonely lanes in the dark.

Today’s grey men who had that one real spark -the will to win.

Bobby Buckley November 7th 2010. For Donie Turner .

The Ballad of the Man from Carrick.

There once were men whose only dream

Was to be in wind and rain

Who pushed their tired bodies through every ditch and drain.

Great wins they won in many a field and park

Fashioned not on all weather tracks or heated gyms

But on cold cold roads and lonely lanes in the dark.

Today’s grey men who had that one simple precious thing –the will to win.

2.

On windswept nights a lonely figure runs out on dark black roads

His lively mind alight with dreams only found, away from kitchen fire, great halls and warm abodes.

His longing heart driven by a vision of that one and only single prize,

First, found at last, at the release of the winning line and all those human cries.

3.

Such a figure was our hero and man Donie Turner

The1960’s ushered in his era as a runner

He was from the townland of Carrick which means, I’m told, a Rock

And he was not a man, I can tell you, you were ever likely to dare to mock.

4.

He was our Gallant captain for the great Grange cross-country team

When the gun sounded over the fields he was always to the fore

Bursting through in the blue and gold over every ditch and stream

And kept driving on until his opponents broke and could do no more.

5.

Sad verse.

Alas it was on a black December day he met what was to him a deep dark defeat

In a mad moment in Bandon he turned, saw the tape beckon and victory seemed complete

Then in a breath the win was snatched by the burst and sprint of Sean Brosnan

A great barefoot runner of the old style and the all mighty Meelin champion.

6.

Deprived and defeated the determined Turner could only think of a runner’s revenge

Vowed in Carrick, that Christmas season would end in his chance to avenge

Where to the high fields of the Rising Sun deep in the folds of Mid Cork

He would prove to all the world that he could be a grim and great victor.

Chorus There once were men…..

7.

The Grange team then was the number one, invincible , hungry enough to win,

With Buckley, O’Reilly, Roche, the venerable Jonny Beechinor and powerful John Mehigan.

At the sound of the gun only one man seemed that day to run

Intent that all would toil in his wake, a single force of mind focussed in beating Brosnan.

8.

The front running revenge worked. This Buckley balladeer, not then reciting but later , at the end of lap one

Passed a very spent, dejected , disconsolate and silent barefoot Brosnan

While it seemed on the distant hills those driven legs danced away from us as if in a trance

This was destined to never become a race, but an honorary procession.

9.

All the runners on that day paid homage to the cross-country king

Donie Turner from Carrick Cork Cross-Country Champion.

When he plotted a victory and he won, all his team mates were greeted with a wicked wink and grin

But at the finish his face was sad, serious, care worn and even grim.

10.

This was a victory that had hurt hard and was something of the heart

Now was not the time for us to shout and roar but quietly depart

So he stood head down, mentally alone, strength totally gone

And accepted our warm outstretched hands and congratulations.

11

The old man Christy Turner sat and watched his own fireside roar,

Listening through the wind and rain for the lift of the latch on the door.

All at once there he was on this same kitchen floor – his one and only son

The same, but changed, transformed as in a dream

Donie, my own, my champion.

Chorus:

There once were men whose only dream

Was to be in wind and rain

Who pushed their tired bodies through every ditch and drain?

Great wins they won in many a field and park

Fashioned not on all weather tracks or heated gyms

But on cold cold roads and lonely lanes in the dark.

Today’s grey men who had that one real spark -the will to win.

Bobby Buckley November 7th 2010. For Donie Turner .