Working with Willow Weekend, February 2011

On a cold and foggy Sunday morning in February - just the day for snuggling up with the spring gardening catalogues - I dug out my secateurs, loppers and a sharp knife and set off for a day of Working with Willow. This event was the idea of organic gardener and designer, Anna Corbett, who contacted Transition Alnwick to drum up some willing folk curious to learn more about using willow and other trees and shrubs for garden structures - and help her harvest the willows in her garden.

Five souls had braved the equally drich weather on the previous day and apparently enjoyed their day pruning the bendy yellow withies and learning how to fashion them into useful supports for sweet peas or runner beans.

After some reviving coffee and chocolate cake and a browse through some catalogues tempting us with ideas both whimsical and down to earth, the Sunday contingent - just four of us including Anna - got stuck into lopping branches and sorting them into 3 groups by diameter, the largest about 2 cms.

We each opted for a simple conical "wigwam" design and set to work choosing branches - largest for the 8 uprights, thinner ones for weaving into garlands around the supports and skinny ones to bind the top garland and secure the point of convergence at the apex. Selecting my eight supports, with instructions from Anna I started gently bending each of the branches back and forth to make them flexible before digging them into Anna's lawn in a circle ready for action (scope maybe for a future course on remedial lawn care?) Apparently even the experts can't always avoid breaking the branches during the bending process, so I was prepared but disappointed when some of my carefully worked stems snapped on me. (Watch out you willowy fashion models!)

I then began making the first of my garlands, weaving eight slender branches in and out of alternate supports horizontally at three points the length of the structure to give stability. Finally, the top of the uprights were secured with the thinnest stems. I decided not to cut the lengths of willow garden and I can always trim them later. We were all pleased with our efforts and stood back to admire an enjoyable day's work (see photos). Anna warned us to dry to structures thoroughly preferably indoors or they would root themselves.

Now I look forward to planting some sweet peas around my graceful wigwam and watching them twine up the beautiful red and yellow stems of Anna's willows. A day well spent and much enjoyed. Thank you Anna.

PS There's a lovely traditional ballad called The Bitter Withy which I hope is not prophetic, the last verse of which goes:

Oh bitter withy, oh bitter withy

You've caused me to smart,

And the withy shall be the very first tree

To perish at the heart.

Elizabeth Anderson