The Great Ivy Battle and A New Greenhouse Begins
Over the last week I have taken every opportunity — and I mean every opportunity — to get outside and start tidying up.
You know that feeling.
You walk past something once… twice… ten times… and each time it annoys you a little bit more.
Until one day that little bit becomes, right that’s it — today’s the day.
For me, that day arrived courtesy of the giant ivy between us and the neighbours.
Now, I should be fair. Ivy has its place. Wildlife loves it. Birds nest in it. Bees use it. All very good things.
But there is a difference between “healthy ivy” and “ivy attempting world domination”.
Ours had crossed that line some time ago.
Back in September / October I cut my side. Nicely done. Neat. Respectful. Very neighbourly.
And in my head — like we all do — I thought this would gently encourage the neighbour to do their side.
You know… lead by example.
Oh no.
Not a chance.
He appears perfectly content to let nature take its course and slowly swallow the garage whole. At this rate the garage will be classified as a woodland habitat by 2027.
I kept looking down their side of the drive.
Once…
Twice…
Far too many times.
Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore.
That was it.
The shears were fuelled up. Goggles on. Slightly dramatic sigh for effect. And off I went.
I informed Sara where I’d be.
“You be careful,” she said.
“Don’t go hurting your back.”
Standard warning. Fully expected. Entirely ignored.
Within minutes I was fully committed. Ivy has a way of doing that — you start with a trim and before you know it you’re in a full scale excavation.
Thirty minutes later Sara appeared.
And this is why things get done so quickly, we team up and two pairs of hands get much more done.
Then suddenly it wasn’t just trimming — it was clearing, stacking, dragging, and creating what can only be described as a small mountain of cuttings.
I always underestimate how much comes off.
Every single time.
You cut a bit… looks harmless… and then there’s a pile that suggests you’ve cleared half a woodland.
But it felt good.
Proper tidy. Proper reset. One of those jobs that sits in your head for months and then gives you enormous satisfaction once it’s done.
And yes… I did cut their side again. Every year for twenty years i have ended up cutting their side as he just wont. And i just cant stand to see it so long and scruffy even though is not my side of the drive.
Greenhouse Plans — The Big Move
While all this was going on, I’ve also been busy at the new greenhouse site on the other side of the garden.
This is something I’ve been thinking about for a while.
Position matters more than people realise.
Sun is everything.
The new spot gets full sun almost all day, which makes a huge difference early and late in the season. Better growth, stronger plants, less damp hanging around — all the things you want.
So the job began: levelling the ground.
Now when I say levelling… what I really mean is getting it as level as human patience allows.
You start with perfection in mind.
You end with “that’ll do”.
I dug down, shuffled soil, checked levels, rechecked levels, adjusted again — the usual dance. Eventually I laid a bed of sand and started placing the slabs where I wanted them.
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I always like taking time with this stage.
If the base is right, everything else behaves.
If the base is wrong, the greenhouse reminds you forever.
Doors don’t sit right. Panels complain. You notice it every single time you walk in.
So slow and steady it was.
Also — and this is important — it looks tidy.
And tidy matters.
Saying Goodbye To The Old Greenhouse
After a lot of thought — and I mean a lot — we’ve decided to replace the old greenhouse.
This wasn’t an easy decision.
That greenhouse has been with me a long time.
It started life as a perfectly respectable polycarbonate greenhouse. Over the years, storms, repairs, “temporary fixes”, more repairs, and the occasional creative solution have taken their toll.
I can honestly say I think the only original parts left are the frame.
Polycarbonate panels have left this garden in every direction imaginable. I’m fairly certain some pieces are now somewhere in the North Sea after being escorted there by winter storms.
You’d replace one panel…
Another would go.
Tape something…
Wedge something…
Tell yourself it’ll last another year.
Fifteen years later you realise you’ve essentially rebuilt it several times.
It has served well. Very well.
And there’s always a moment when you look at something that’s done its job and feel slightly guilty replacing it.
But sometimes you reach the point where repair stops being sensible.
And this was that point.
The New Greenhouse Decision
So this time — I’ve gone back to glass.
Proper greenhouse glass.
I’ve chosen a Halls greenhouse after reading a lot of reviews and doing what we all do: far too much research.
But reviews matter. Real experiences matter. And this one kept coming up as solid, reliable, well built — all the things you want when you’re investing in something you’ll use constantly.
Fingers crossed.
There’s always that little leap of faith.
But I keep thinking about my old dad’s greenhouse — the one that’s been mine for around thirty years now and is still going strong.
That’s the benchmark.
Solid. Simple. Built to last.
That’s what you hope for.
Because a greenhouse isn’t just a structure — it becomes part of your routine, your seasons, your plans. It holds seedlings, experiments, successes, failures, and everything in between.
You spend more time in there than you realise.
The Excitement Of A Fresh Start
There’s something special about starting again with a new greenhouse.
It resets the enthusiasm.
You start imagining layouts. Shelving. Seed trays. Where tomatoes will go. Where the early sowings will sit. How you’ll manage airflow. What worked before. What you’ll change.
It becomes a project before a single plant goes in.
And I enjoy that part just as much as the growing.
Planning is half the gardening.
Maybe more.
The base going in, the slabs down, the gravel planned — it all makes it feel real now. Not just an idea sitting in the back of my head.
This is happening.
The Reality Of Gardening Projects
Of course, like every garden project, it takes longer than you think.
You find extra jobs.
You adjust plans.
You realise you need another bag of sand… then another.
Tools appear. Tools disappear. You walk back and forth more than the actual work requires.
Standard procedure.
But that’s gardening.
It isn’t just the result — it’s the process. The slow progress. The small wins. The standing back at the end of the day thinking, yes… that’s moved forward.
And that’s exactly how this week has felt.
Ivy tackled.
Area cleared.
Greenhouse base underway.
Decision made.
Real progress.
Looking Ahead
The next stage is the exciting one — the build itself.
That moment when boxes arrive and suddenly it becomes very real.
Instructions will be studied. Then ignored. Then studied again.
There will be moments of confidence… followed by moments of “why is this piece left over”.
Completely normal.
But I’m looking forward to it.
Because this greenhouse will carry the next chapter — seedlings, experiments, probably a few mistakes, and hopefully a lot of success.
And hopefully — like the old ones — it will still be standing many years from now.
That’s always the goal.
Build it properly. Use it well. Let it become part of the garden story.
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