Patterns, shapes and hues.

As the misty rain falls revitalising parched grass and yellowing plants, green once again takes on a range of hues. From the bedroom we can just make out the line of the South Downs through the trees ... and what a magnificent tree-scape it is.

The purple leaves of a giant copper beech and the yellowy green leaves of the ordinary beech frame each side of the view. The feathery pale lime of the contorted willow contrasts with the sombre yew just beyond. In the foreground our Victoria plum weeps with the weight of fruit; sadly, the poor pear tree was so badly damaged by snow last winter that not a single pear is visible. We've already started picking apples for 'Tarte Tatin' (try this recipe), our favourite 'Apple and Almond cake' and fruit crumble, and will soon join forces with friends to press tons of apples for juice, which will then be frozen for the winter.

I particularly love the layered shape of the spring-flowering shrub, Viburnam plicatum 'Mariesii'; plants which offer more than one stunning flush of flowers are such good value. Whether it's their autumn leaf colour, the brilliance of their winter stems or - as with this Viburnam - the simple beauty of their form, an additional feature is such a bonus.

Last summer I wrote about the wonderful Rosa banksiae 'Lutea', which I planted about four years ago on the south wall of our house; its many clusters of tiny yellow flowers in spring and early summer are so pretty that now I could not be without it - but what a thug! Arching stems 8-10 feet long wave in the breeze from the gutter above the eaves and threaten to overwhelm my other special love, 'Rosa Deprez a fleur jaune'; ruthless pruning is now essential.

I was convinced that we'd lost our Passion flower during the weeks of freezing temperatures; but by July there it was once again smothering the lower bare branches of the climbing roses, and, later than usual, flowering. The flowers have always fascinated me, as they seem too amazing to be real. They are also a brilliant example of nature's use of 'Fibonacci' numbers, as the sepals, petals and stamens are arranged using a sequence of Fibonacci numbers - 3, 5 and 3. (Fibonacci numbers are 0 and 1, then you simply add together the last two numbers to get the next in the sequence, eg: 0+1=1, 1+1=2, 2+1=3, 3+2-5, 5+3=8, 8+5=13, etc.)

When we lived in Hackney, we acquired a lovely old sink from an old London Post Office, which was being converted to offices; this has sat unused in a corner of the garden for over a decade and a half. Finally, it has become a feature under the kitchen window - as an alpine and succulents garden. I've never been a lover of those alpine gardens with pretend rocky promontories and little chasms, but I am a great lover of plants of all kinds so the sink full of little beauties, mounted on two low brick pillars, is giving much delight as we sit at the breakfast table. Pride of place has gone to the exquisite 'Rhodohypoxis' which I bought at the Hampton Court Flower Show; its miniature spikey shape is nicely complemented by the starry whorls of several types of Sempervivum.

Sempervivums are also interesting for the patterning and numbers of their 'petals'; for those intrigued, check out this site.