The Occasional Gardener: The west of Ireland has too much water, the Canary Islands too little - but the tropical gardens there provide some ideas that can be adapted
Gardeners here have it easy. We might complain about the rain, but can you imagine trying to grow anything in a place which gets only a couple of inches of rain in a wet year? To escape December's grey skies and gales in the west of Ireland, I fled to Fuerteventura, one of the Canary islands nearest to the Sahara. All the eastern islands are volcanic with a desert climate so I expected to see a barren colourless landscape with few flowers or trees but, on a day trip to neighbouring Lanzarote, I was amazed to see lush tropical gardens and vineyards - and to make discoveries which I can apply to my west of Ireland garden.
Until the 1970s, Lanzarote didn't have any desalination plants and the only water either fell from the sky or lapped on the shore. Even now, islanders are so aware of water shortages that they save washing-up water to throw on their gardens - and if last year's dry summer becomes a regular occurrence, we might need to follow their example.
The people of Lanzarote are expert at making the most of their limited natural resources - they don't grow many crops but have been growing vines and producing wine since the 18th century. Despite having the temperatures and sunlight for grapevines, sufficient water for irrigation seemed to be a huge obstacle, until someone saw the potential of the volcanoes and lava fields which dominate the south part of the island.
Each grapevine is planted in the centre of its own mini-crater (where every drop of water can be collected), and is sheltered by a semi-circular windbreak made of volcanic stone. The key is the thick layer of volcanic ash surrounding each vine; it prevents evaporation of any water and somehow seems to create enough dew each morning to prevent drought.
A plant requiring somewhat less effort in the harsh climate is cactus. The Jardin de Cactus, created from the eyesore of a disused quarry, would turn the most ardent cactus-hater into a fan; more than 10,000 cacti of 1,500 varieties of every size, shape and colour are crammed into an amphitheatre for the senses. Even here, there is a pest though; gardeners struggle to keep out the tiny cochineal beetle which is cultivated all over the island in plantations of cactus (to be harvested and exported as a food colouring).
Lanzarote is a UNESCO biosphere, which means that its natural heritage has some protection from the worst ravages of mass tourism, but the island's careful development owes a lot to just one man: local artist and architect - and plant-lover - César Manrique. His house on the lava fields, which he created by transforming underground volcanic bubbles into rooms and gardens, is now an art gallery. Each bubble retains its original 1960s colour-themed décor - Barbarella meets early Habitat - while a tree grows up through the centre of the house, which is surrounded by cactus and bougainvillea.
In Los Jameos del Agua - a series of subterranean lava bubbles and collapsed caves open to the sun - Manrique has used the natural drama of volcanic rock and pools as a backdrop to a striking tropical garden.
Terraces of dripping vegetation line the path down to the underground lake which is home to blind albino crabs, while music adds to the meditative atmosphere.
It's a place to savour and absorb - and to get inspiration for your own garden. Despite my love affair with tropical plants, I'm not sure how they would survive the Roscommon frosts - or how they would blend into my cottage garden - but I came away convinced that music can add something special to a garden. So now, along with thinking of plants and hard landscaping for the spring, I have to work out how I can incorporate music into my patch of earth.
