It can be very hard for people who aren't botanists or seasoned gardeners to imagine the slender little saplings they're planting in a garden will assume impressive proportions as they mature in decades to come. We tend to regard these stalwarts of an emerging garden as representative when we plant them of what they will become, merely a little larger. And then we're amazed when we're faced with a garden too crowded and compromised by lack of space, each tree, shrub or perennial trying to elbow the other out of the way, competing for soil nutrition and sun exposure and sometimes languishing in the effort.

Just like planting otherwise-attractive garden plants we're not aware have a reputation of space-gobbling, like Ladies Mantle or Chameleon plant both of which have a habit of  insinuating themselves through runners wherever they can, crowding out other, perhaps more desirable plants.

When we planted our then-new garden ornament, a copy of the classical Discobolus in our backyard, placing it where there was a toss-up whether we would prefer a small pond or a statue of distinction once we took down the playground equipment, swings, slides and little 'house' we'd placed there when we were caregivers for our granddaughter, we decided to place attractive ornamental trees beside it.

So Discobolus was wrestled by us on to his pedestal (we were younger then and I was able to provide the additional grappling strength required to supplement my husband's far more considerable physicality), we planted alongside him a pair of small upright cedars and in front of them, a pair of globe cedars. A rose was planted in front of Discobolus, between the trees and in front of it a perennial pink poppy, and we thought the end result represented a pleasant little garden bed.

There was a time when, year after year, in preparation for winter, I would tie up the cedars to ensure that the weight of snow and ice wouldn't distort them the following spring. I had to reach higher and higher over the successive years. At this point there's no purpose trying since they've attained a superior height and are capable of fending for themselves. Now, those upright cedars have attained such a spread that Discobolus is half-hidden, his splendid form naked but for a fig leaf, peeking out discreetly from the green screen book-ending him.

The first of the Magnolia trees wasn't meant for our climate zone, so faithfully every fall, I would wrap it in a gardening winter blanket to help it through our severe winters. Eventually, I needed layers of blankets and with difficulty covered what I could. That tree now reaches above our roofline and no longer needs any attention from us, it has acclimatized and fends for itself through the winter. The rhododendrons that I also used to blanket similarly got too large and awkward to cover. When we have excessively cold winter days the foliage folds into itself with misery, and since this past winter was particularly severe, this year the rhododendrons continue to look defeated, but they did produce the usual splendid flowers.

There are many other trees in our garden, front and back, that distinguish themselves in their maturity, like the weeping cypress, the corkscrew hazel, the blue spruces and the purple smoke tree. All of them add texture, colour and architecture to the garden, important considerations for those who love a well-rounded and -presented garden view, helped along by surprise sightings of classical sculpture discreetly planted here and there, complementing the living garden.