In the same spirit, with the help of the brilliant Knepp volunteer group, we added another 600 late- summer flowering bulbs for the time of year when most plants have bloomed and gone to seed: society garlic (Tulbaghia violacea) amongst the grasses by the pool; white spires of summer hyacinth (Galtonia candicans) scattered around the bowl of the ephemeral pond; two-coloured pineapple lily (Eucomis bicolour); white and pink species of Bowden lily, their blooms held on erect clear stems into October; and the trumpet-shaped swamp lily (Crinum x powellii). All these bulbous perennials are native to South Africa and need plenty of sunlight and free-draining conditions. They can often rot if subjected to extreme wet or frozen conditions in moist soils. So, we plant in spring to give them a chance to establish as the temperatures rise and, if last year is anything to go by, they will thrive in the hotter, drier summers the UK seems increasingly prone to.

On the other end of the weather spectrum, the lengthy periods of frost over the winter have left us with many plants either dead or significantly stunted – the spurges and rock roses particularly hard hit. Our discussions have turned to the horticultural attitude towards death in the garden. In nature a plant may die from reaching old age, being over-browsed or trampled by animals, struck down by weather, insect attack, disease or fungi. Their stems and leaves drop to the ground over time. They slowly decompose, feeding the soil and all its biota, which in turn feed the growth of seeds and plants in a natural cycle. Our instinct as gardeners is to tidy away the dead, to erase what might be considered unsightly – particularly larger woody shrubs. Yet often, gardens can be populated with freestanding sculptures or obelisks as aesthetically pleasing upright structures – not unlike the skeletons of the dead shrubs in the garden with a little creative trimming? In the case of recognisable diseases or fungi that cause widespread destruction such as honey fungus it is, of course, advisable to remove and burn the dead material. But we decided to keep what was architectural, lightly pruning some, cutting back some to the base, maintaining as much complexity as possible. With an enormous Pasteur spurge (Euphorbia x pasteurii), we ‘lifted’ the shrub by taking out some of the lower stems to create a giant umbel shape and encouraged some of the more bedraggled leaves to part with their limbs with some gentle shaking. In the space left underneath, we planted two climbing hops, ‘ Wye Challenger’. Their large lemony-green palmate leaves will scramble all over the structure, growing five metres into adulthood and bearing hanging flowers like large insect pupae. They can be used as bittering and flavouring in beer brewing or dried for teas or treatments for insomnia. Even the bines (new shoots pushed up in spring), can be eaten as asparagus substitutes. The remaining area was perfect clear ground for a dense clump of foxtail lilies (Eremurus stenophyllus). Their strange octopus-like fleshy roots sometimes reach 50cm wide, and need to be planted in shallow, free-draining soil. Since there was little else growing under the canopy of the euphorbia when it was alive, and they begrudge competition or disturbance, this section of the rewilded garden with topsoil under 50mm of coarse sand was ideal.