I WONDER if any of the gardens that I have designed or had a hand in creating will still be around in 100 years from now.

Will anyone say 'oh yes, that was one of Brigid's'? Do my signature curving borders have staying power, or will they be bulldozed away to make way for the next gardening craze. These were all questions that went through my head as I pondered over an amazing find I made on a recent trip to the Holy Isles.

I had never been to Lindsifarne before but had always been intrigued by places that are neither mainland nor island. A tidal obstacle like that must add a bit of mystery and confusion to the daily routine of everyday life. Do the inhabitants get special dispensations from work when the sea won't let them come home after 4pm? Do businesses book their appointments according to the phases of the moon? It's all worth pondering about.

I had always promised myself a trip and two weeks ago I managed to clear some time and made the effort. I was pleasantly surprised by how easy it is to get to. The journey over the causeway filled me with excitement. The tide was going out, leaving puddles on the road. As I drove along, though, it was the mass carpeting of thrift that really made me catch my breath. The sides of the road, the marshes and the sand dunes were covered in continuous tufts of baby pink flowers. At the first parking spot, I got out to photograph the plants and was hit by a symphony of lilting bird song. The sky larks were nesting in the dune grass, and were trying to distract me away from their families by fluttering higher and higher into the sky.

Needless to say it took me a while to actually make my way to the island; there were so many glorious distractions. Having parked up I meandered along the streets, doing the usual tourist route. I visited the mead shop. I wandered around the priory, scrambled up the cliffs and finally made my way along the shore line towards the castle on the rocky outcrop. Now, I like castles. I like the romances and the fantasy of remnants left over from a bygone era. I like to absorb the drama of history, and at times even sense a flicker of a once resident soul.

This was a small castle. It didn't have massive bulging buttresses, or Rumplestiltskin turrets. It was smooth and sophisticated, and had obviously been altered over the years. I am not knocking the castle. It was wonderfully located, nicely renovated and had obviously at one time in its life been the cause of many a power struggle. It's just that its presence wasn't as imposing as I had built it up to be. Bamburgh Castle just over the water certainly dwarfed it.

Slightly disappointed, I wandered over to a small enclosure 100 yards away. I assumed it was a sheep pen for the winter or something. A small plaque at the gate stopped me dead in my tracks. This was a beautifully maintained garden that had originally been designed by the great gardening mentor Gertrude Jekkyl in the very early 1900's. It was packed full of perennial colour, herbs and vegetables. A true oasis amongst the sheep grazed shore line. It wasn't till much later on, whilst sitting outside one of the island's pubs, that I actually got down to reading the leaflet on the castle and realised how she had come to build one of her famed gardens here on Holy Island. The castle was a project taken on by the great architect, Luytens, hence its alterations and sophistication. Jekkyl and Luytens were very good friends, and hence the connection. I can now forgive the castle for its meek appearance. If Luytens hadn't been up here making it so, then Jekkyl would never have created her little gem.

JOBS TO DO THIS WEEK

Start thinning out root seedlings to allow room for them to expand properly.

Trim willow back to shape if it has started going wild.

Twine the climbing tendrils of cucumbers onto supports.

* If you have any gardening questions, tips or stories then phone Brigid on Sunday afternoons, from midday to 2pm, on Ask about Gardening, FM95, Radio Cleveland.

www.thisisthenortheast.co.uk/ leisure/gardening