How one historic garden grows

Lady Sybil left no written records about the garden. Fortunately for Pirnie, who is determined to be as faithful as possible to her style, Douglas McDonald, who was head gardener from her time until his retirement in 1982, is still here for advice.

The upper pool garden nearest the castle is a superb example of Lady Sybil's originality. There are intense contrast colors from June to September: purplish-bronze foliage, reds, yellows, oranges. All of this color seems sharpened by the intensity of light northeast Scotland is known for.

Plants with hot colors, however, present a problem at Crathes, because they can be too tender to stand the harsh winters that strike about once a decade – not to mention the frequent cold winds and heavy snowfall. When plants are brought in from the warmer south of England, they often die.

Pirnie finds this another reason to respect the history, and the geography, of the place. "The old varieties Lady Burnett used are absolute crackers. They've been here 50-odd years," he says. "[They are] proven varieties that do well here." This is a lesson home gardeners are beginning to learn. Growing what will naturally thrive in your soil and climate is easier and more enjoyable than trying to force foreign exotics to grow in an unsuitable climate.

This is not to suggest that gardeners shouldn't experiment. Clearly, Sir James did. And Pirnie does. But Pirnie emphasizes that this is not "his garden." At the same time, it is also by no means just Sir James's and Lady Sybil's garden.

"There was an incredible garden already here, and a framework," he says.

The enormous topiaries go back at least to the first years of the 18th century. The hedges joining them were planted in the 19th century, when the upper areas were turned into geometrically formal pleasure gardens.

The second level features two gardens: One is a rose and lavender garden, the other is "the blue garden" with blue-flowered annuals in beds that are edged with clipped miniature box (known as boxwood in the United States) hedges. The lowest level is like a heaving sea of plants and shrubs, including a white border and a double border that predated Lady Sybil.

Another double border that is, however, pure Lady Sybil, is one that is scintillating in June each year. At one end stands a tiny dovecot. It emphasizes the cottage-garden character of her gardening.

The yew hedges are, Pirnie is certain, in need of attention. Their girth has expanded over the years and now makes the annual trim increasingly difficult. It also courts disaster from heavy snowfall.

Although the decision will be made by a committee, Pirnie believes the yew walk may have to be demolished and replanted. Already one hedge bordering the croquet lawn has been cut back more than six feet.

Some visitors who love Crathes object to such radical actions. But Pirnie's pointed question is: If something isn't done now, will there be any yew hedges surviving here at all in a hundred years?

Managers of historical gardens need to look back sensitively. They also have to look very boldly forward.

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