In the garden it is seldom that neglect pays dividends but this month I had the pleasure of discovering that the kiwi fruit on the vine growing on the end wall of the farmhouse was not only in perfect condition but the flavour and texture are the best produced since it was planted some ten years ago. I say neglect because the fruit would not have been there had I not been in such a hurry when cropping at the usual time in October, when the first frosts have started and the fruit is in danger of turning to squish. The dozen or so that I missed were all close to the wall, no doubt hidden by the leaves that remain on the plant until November, and therefore protected from the frost by a combination of the tracery of woody tendrils and the proximity to the wall. Immediately on the inside of the wall stands the granite chimney stack, warming the masonry and mitigating the worst effects of the frost on the plant. Even so, I was most surprised to find the fruit in such good shape, dark and juicy, far better than when picked at our usual time, when they are very hard and decidedly lacking in flavour.

Before Christmas I spent a few days at a backpackers hostel on a kiwi orchard near Te Puke, in the heart of New Zealand's fruit producing region, and one afternoon noticed the farmer chopping some of the vines to about eighteen inches above the ground and grafting new stock to the stumps. He was obviously hard at it so I left him and only asked about the work on encountering him in the evening. Apparently Japanese horticulturalists have developed a new, smoother skinned strain of kiwi with sweeter, pink flesh, and it was this variety that he had been grafting. The new strain is known as 'chinensis', somewhat confusingly given that the kiwi vine is known botanically as actinidia chinensis - but I expect this is for commercial reasons. It will still be some time before they are available in the shops but keep an eye out for them.

Whilst up the ladder, picking my kiwis, it became clear from my elevated view of the field adjacent to the garden that at least one mole has become active in the area, which means it won't be long before all the old runs are recolonised in the orchard and other cultivated places outside the house. Few things make a gardener's blood boil more than the exasperating sight of molehills sprouting in the garden, although they are a handy source of topsoil for mixing with compost in pots. For such small creatures moles can wreak tremendous havoc. One year I grew a sizeable bed of gladioli for cut flowers and one day, from a distance, they appeared to have lost some of their symmetry. A closer look was in order and sure enough a number of them were lolling drunkenly in the breeze and the soil was criss-crossed with telltale torpedo trails. Unfortunately, moles seem to be attracted to disturbed soil, and in this case the flower bed was positioned next to a large section of previously uncultivated land. The gladioli needed staking, as they had become unstable, and they did suffer further because the mole proved to be extremely wily and difficult to trap, but they produced a tremendous number of flower spikes despite the root damage.

One morning a couple of years back I was astonished to find a mole hill inside the greenhouse - some feat because the mole had to tunnel under five inches of concrete, and several further inches of granite rubble. No way could this be tolerated so a trap went down and the next day it had been sprung. The ill- fated mole was no more. However, a few days later, there were more signs of activity in the same spot and once again I put down a trap. Sure enough, another few days and the trap had another victim. This went on for several weeks and the outcome was five dead moles, all caught inside the greenhouse! I am not by nature a bloodthirsty individual, and if there were other effective means of ridding the garden of moles I would employ them, but other methods I have tried just do not seem to work.

Living on a farm exposes the garden to attack from countless pests: guinea fowl, noisy screeching poultry that one year dug up all the brodiaea corms put in for cut flowers; bullocks that once vaulted the orchard fence and denuded the apple trees of their spring leaves. As for cats, need I say more, and dogs have an annoying habit of using flower beds as handy walkways.

Not usually considered a garden pest wasps can cause problems when about in large numbers, and the only really effective way of dealing with them is to locate and destroy the nest. One exceptional year I tackled seven nests in one evening, the time of day when the wasps are all inside. The method employed for this task involves using a reversible, two-stroke, engine driven garden blower - the sort used for clearing leaves. An assistant is required to introduce wasp killing powder into the air intake whilst I point the outlet pipe directly at the entrance of the nest. It is usually very effective and not in the least hazardous because most of the wasps are actually inside the nest, and any stragglers are always so disorientated by the noise and turbulence that they simply buzz around looking nonplussed.

Most of the work in the garden at this time of year involves preparation for the coming year. The greenhouse is rapidly filling with pelargonium cuttings thanks to the effects of the unseasonally mild spell in bringing on the parent plants. I splashed out on some scented leaved varieties with the most intensely aromatic presence imaginable, and although not cheap they are well worth the money, producing plenty of cuttings. The pelargonium has got to be one of the most rewarding plants - lush leaves, pleasing to the eye, a multitude of blooms, and at home in basket, border and pots.

I pot up numerous plants because it is always handy to have something to fill in a blank where one plant has finished flowering, or a temporary gap caused by the untimely passing of another. I have a number of potted trees, which are supposed to be bonsai, just alder and birch, and these are exceptionally useful for adding greenery to a container display. Often when pots are filled with flowering plants the riot of colour is markedly enhanced by the inclusion of one of these trees. This year I am trying out potted lilies, 'fire king' and 'golden splendour'. I selected these varieties because they were the only healthy looking bulbs on sale in the garden centre. Rummaging through the selection always makes me feel a little awkward, but it really is necessary. Some of the bulbs on sale looked as if they had spent several months on a manure heap!

I shall spend the next month working on a long overdue redevelopment of the garden, so my next article shall hopefully contain many triumphs and (please, please) not too many disasters. In the meantime I wish you well and it is out with the gardening books for my one per cent inspiration, and on with the work boots for the ninety nine per cent perspiration!

You can find more articles in the archive under Soiled Hands.

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