Sunday, 12 January 2020

2020 Predictions


Writing in his iplantsman blog, a friend of mine, Lewis Normand (of Bernhard’s Nursery) has recently been giving some of his design predictions for 2020. An experienced and knowledgeable plantsman and garden designer, who also supplies plants for many a top garden designer, Lewis is in a very good position to give his opinions on the future direction of garden design. For example, he believes 2020 to be the year of the flowering shrub, an opinion shared with many. The likes of Stephen Lacy (writer & broadcaster) have long championed the return of the much-neglected shrub. Now, I love all plants, and believe there’s a home of aesthetic beauty for each and every one of them, but personally, I’ll always favour the transitory nature and dynamism of herbaceous material over shrubs any day. 

Lewis also foresees a boom in indoor gardening (I couldn’t agree more) together with the ever-growing popularity of grow-your-own: food to fork and all that. Whereas in my opinion i’ve always thought that everything I need to know about fruit and veg can be found in the first two aisles of any supermarket. I’m all about beauty, not sustenance!

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Stourhead - A living work of art.
However, when considering future design trends, I wonder if it might be worth contemplating other aspects of what often brings about change: the social, economic, cultural and political changes that motivate shifts in art and design. Historically, artistic changes have often been social and political reactions  to whatever had come before: the English Landscape Movement sweeping away the formality of the renaissance garden; the arts & craft aesthetic that reacted against the mechanistic threat of the industrial revolution, and so on. Anyway, no guesses as to what I’m leading you to here… the dreaded ‘B’ word I’m afraid. Yes, you guessed it – Brexit…!


Now, without trying to get too political - for what is after all, a horticultural blog - for me at at least, Brexit does have a rather inward, ‘pull-up-the-drawbridge’ kind of feel to it and I wonder what implications, in a garden design context, this might have for the shape of our future gardens? I mean, it’s not as though the average domestic garden of the U.K has changed much since we first joined the EU, or the Common Market as it was known back then, but the influence of the New Perennial Movement (coming just a decade following our Common Market membership in 1973) certainly tried to direct us away from a garden style that had been with us for well over a 100 years. 

You can't deny it.... we do know how to create a rather nice herbaceous border!

For a very long time, us Brits (and the English in particular) have believed our gardens to be worldly superior, and in truth, our horticultural history, does justify this view. Pushing aside the enormous success of the English Landscape Movement, who invented and cultivated a view of England the world still imagines us to be – that of rolling fields fringed with majestic Oaks - the cottage garden style of Gertrude Jekyll & William Robinson created an aesthetic that surrounds most domestic houses to this day. Subsequent dabblers in the crafty arts may have moved the style on slightly giving it the odd tweak and twist, but generally (despite Rosemary Verey, Lawrence Johnson, Margery Fish and Vita Sackcloth-Vest) we still garden in a very similar way with mixed herbaceous borders, layering material from ground cover, up to the herbaceous level, before rising steadily to shrubs, climbers and trees. I guess we all wanted a little of that National Trust look around our homes. It’s a wonder we all didn’t go the whole hog and install gift shops, selling pencils, rubbers and cream teas, with lashings of ginger beer!

In contrast, what the New Perennial Movement offered us was something so very different. It was of course the 1980’s; a time when accessible flights could land you in a German or Dutch town easier, quicker and cheaper than getting to say, Manchester or Leeds. I don’t know about you, but I grabbed that offer with both hands and went in search of something a little more diverse, and horticulturally speaking, I wasn’t alone.



(From the pictorial Arts & Crafts border, to the immersive style of the New Perennialists shown in these two pictures taken at Hermannshof, Germany)

The likes of the newly-published magazine Gardens Illustrated also looked to Europe for something new, and landed upon the likes of Piet Oudolf, Mien Ruys and Ton Ter Linden. At the same time, and writing in the Daily Telegraph, so too did the likes of Stephen Lacy. Top nursery folk also travelled to Germany and Holland, literally filling their boots (of their cars) with enough plant material to bring back home, propagate (usually from division) and begin selling in their own nurseries. Our very own Dr Noel Kingsbury began a literary partnership with Oudolf showing us what could be done when ornamental grasses were combined with clump-forming and well-behaved perennials. In many respects, the design aesthetic they gave us, reintroduced us to the forgotten remembrance of our primordial love and affection of the meadow: a naturalistic landscape. Eden perhaps? A garden that we’ve been trying to return to for a very long time.

Oudolf's Hummelo. I know one should never compare, BUT COME ON!!


Anyway, that whole New Perennial aesthetic was, and continues to be, a very European affair. In the eighties and nineties, the whole of Europe was opened up to us by the likes of Easyjet and Ryanair as they increased their European routes and took us to new destinations. What Mien Ruys was doing with her Bauhaus-inspired version of naturalistic planting, or the philosophical musings of Rob Leopold, or Oudolf’s plant breeding at Hummelo, or the grasses of Karl Foerster and Ernst Pagels…. Well, it certainly was a brave new world that gave us and our gardens the kick we both needed and deserved. Almost overnight, our gardens went from the pictorial to the immersive.

Image result for karl foerster nursery man
Karl Foerster
So, what now? Will Brexit have any influence on our gardens at all?  Well, as I say, although their influence can been seen mainly with regards designer gardens and public spaces, the New Perennialists have had some impact on our garden spaces over the past twenty years or so. However, seeing as the UK domestic garden still rests in its post arts and crafts cottage muddle, it’s not as though Brexit can ever return us to a style we’ve never actually left. More’s the case, I reckon, we might see a re-imagining of something quintessentially English. A romantic re-investigation and celebration of the cottage garden perhaps. A greater interest in growing ‘native’ plants, whatever that means. Maybe roses will see a huge renaissance? Possibly Delphiniums, Peonies and Lupin sales will surge?

At Pettifers where a New English (New Perennial?) influence is without question. Stunningly beautiful.

For me, January 31st will be a very sad day. I keep reminding myself that we’re not leaving Europe, we’re ‘only’ leaving the EU, but somehow that doesn’t help me to feel any better. I truly love our horticultural heritage. The English Landscape Movement changed the shape of our countryside and gave England something truly unique, and in doing so, finally released plants from the tyranny of formalism. In a very different way, so did the arts and crafts movement, successfully marrying the formal with the informal, combining plants from all over the world, and always within a framework of ‘right-plant, right-place’.



A simple carriageway in Utrecht. Why can't we do this?
However, I’m also very aware of what those European New Perennialists have given us since Europe became more accessible via the Common Market and Easyjet. For example. without the Dutch Wave, would we ever have had Dan Pearson, Christopher Bradley-Hole, Tom Stuart-Smith, Sarah Price, or even the likes of Nigel Dunnett and James Hitchmough? Without the naturalistic aesthetic they brought to garden design, maybe all we would’ve been left with were the garden facsimiles of the National Trust, Great Dixter, Sissinghurst and Hidcote…. And what a sad state of affairs that would’ve been.

Until next time. Thanks for reading.

Marc

Le Jardinier. xx


My idea of heaven. Two ol' blokes and one cat... looking at plants!


Thursday, 30 May 2019

The Mystic Garden



I could look at Heleniums all day!
Entering a garden, either public, private or domestic, is like stepping into a work of art. Certain differences are obvious: paintings, sculptures etc are finished pieces of work and once completed they never change. A garden on the other hand is never finished, and in fact should never be so! Its un-finished nature not only draws the visitor into the garden, but gifts the sightseer a portion of the space, allowing him or her the right to be its co-creator, completing the picture with their imagination for potential. 

I guess I visit gardens for the same reasons as many. I see it as a journey into art, beauty, and a natural aesthetic. I also go looking for the meaning in a garden… and maybe also for meaning in life too? As I walk around a garden, I try to pull as many strands together as I can in order to make the most of the experience. My experience of a garden is built on the two pillars of art and science, and is always underpinned by both appreciation and knowledge.

No doubt I go looking for what Alexander Pope (in 1731) called ‘the genius of the place’ or what the Romans referred to as its ‘Genius Loci’. 

My own personal interest in garden history has always focused from around the English Landscape Movement onward. Personally, I can’t really see how anyone with a love of plants and natural landscapes could be that interested in design styles which have taken pleasure in dominating nature (e.g. from Louis XIV’s Versailles to the garden rooms of John Brooks) and which have imposed architectural rules onto an ever-loving, ever-nurturing Mother Nature. Somehow, I can’t imagine the exploitation of nature, say the gross splendour of a renaissance garden, as having anything to do with the Garden of Eden as portrayed by Milton in Paradise Lost:

A happy rural seat of various view; Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balme. Betwixt them lawns, or level downs… flours of all hue’ (book 4).

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Stowe Garden - steeped in symbolism.

So, when I visit gardens, and what compels me to do so, is a motivation far removed from all the pretty flowers that I might see there – although pretty flowers are always a massive bonus! It’s the aesthetic, the natural beauty, the ideology behind its design; its allusions to (and maybe its reactions against) certain artistic movements, along with its historical and cultural context, as well as the mythology and spirituality I may encounter there.

As mentioned above, to experience a garden – as with any art form – a little bit of knowledge goes a long way. You don’t have to be a garden historian to appreciate a garden, but a little piece of prior research might just add to your appreciation of where it sits in the history of garden design. Is it an artsy-craftsy, cottage-muddle style of garden? Is it trying to mimic a natural landscape somewhere? Is it formal, informal, or an intelligent/creative mix of the two?

The formal and the informal at Bury Court.
So again, appreciation and knowledge underpin the art and science of a garden. I guess, being a gardener myself, I can also appreciate the skilled work and toil (blood, sweat & tears) that have gone into making a garden. A garden that offers up all-year-round interest, with plants that rise and fall, compliment and compete with each other, that offer harmonious and contrasting colour schemes, with variations of size, structure and texture doesn't just happen all by itself.... or maybe it does?

Some people (Nigel Dunnet) seem to make it all look so effortless.

To walk round a garden and only notice the pretty flowers is to miss out on witnessing a natural community of organisms, who, like us, simply want to get along with each other without too much trouble and whose only wish is to actualise their full potential.

Tim Richardson, garden historian, critic, author of around 20 (really great) books, and all-round horty brainiac, believes that garden design styles tend to move in cycles of decades and half decades. I’ve never really agreed with that opinion. Apart from the annual show gardens, that no doubt demonstrate certain ebb-and-flow trends, the average domestic garden of the UK hasn’t changed much in at least 100 years. We still garden trying to mimic in miniature the mixed cottage-muddles we see at places like Great Dixter and Sissinghurst: trees, shrubs, roses and herbaceous borders.... and maybe a few annuals for the gaps.

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Munstead Wood from 1912. Look familiar?

The history books will always apportion roughly two hundred years of Italian influenced renaissance gardens across Europe, and will give approximately the same amount of time to the English Landscape Movement that followed it. Then, apart from outgrowths and diversions into the Picturesque and Gardenesque, history documents the next design chapter (let’s scurry past Victorian bedding schemes) as the Arts and Crafts movement of the early 1900’s…. and we’ve been gardening the same way ever since! So, apart from the occasional pendulum swing between the formal and the informal – a foray into modernism that never quite took hold in the UK – we’re all still pretty much locked into our mini Munsteads!

Anyway, I digress… back to our mystic garden.

Now, I’m not particularly religious…. but I know a man who is! Douglas Swinscow’s The Mystic Garden (1992) is an amazing book in which he writes about his search, and discovery, of the various spiritual meanings to be found in a garden. In the book he manages cleverly to weave aspects of garden history with advice on garden design, drawing in examples from many a famous, and some quietly hidden gardens, throughout history. As a committed Christian, allied to a strong belief in Taoist philosophy, Douglas takes the reader on a journey, his journey, as he explores how gardens can bring meaning into one’s life. Like most of us I guess, he is of course, trying to find a way back to that Garden of Eden: ‘the mystic garden shows us the way, or one of the infinite number of ways, by which we can attain a deeper knowledge of our existence….. the mystic garden itself has no place on the map: it lies in the soul of each of us’.

Image result for mystic garden book

I would certainly recommend the book as something very different from all the usual gardening books (historical or otherwise) out there. It was my holiday read recently, and my pencilled notes were written in the margins of almost every page! Cheap as chips on Amazon – do check it out. It helped me consider and consolidate what I’m searching for with my love of gardens: my art form of choice.






And as for me, in my own garden, the ‘spirit of place’ is to be found in the joy of its creation, the nurturing of its development, and the love of what it’s become… and yes, the toil in the continued labour of its maintenance.

Thanks for reading.

Marc



Monday, 11 March 2019

In praise of the skilled gardener.


Well, you know me by now. I’m not the greatest believer in the work of garden design, or garden designers for that matter. On many occasions I’ve stated an opinion believing that all the best gardens are created through evolution and development: the garden owner cherishing their outdoor space with experimentation, creativity, nurture, love and a desire to create something of beauty. 



Now, I can’t imagine many professional garden designers have those same sentiments in their heart. Well, not for your garden anyway! Yes, they may harbour a desire to create, but in the scheme of things, professional garden design will always be something of a quick fix. Perhaps more a reflection of our affluence and our ‘want-something-nice’ and ‘want-it-now’ culture. Many analogies spring to mind. So let’s just take one.


To me, having your garden designed – by a garden designer – is a bit like commissioning an artist to paint you picture. I understand this. You yourself couldn’t paint a barn door let alone create something of beauty, so you call in someone who can. You tell them the kind of thing you like. Whether you want something bold, dramatic, understated… cool, hot etc? They then go off and try to use their talent and artistic imagination to produce something beautiful for you…. and if that creation was a garden, then voila! Like an oil painting that hangs outside your kitchen window, there you have it, your Utopian vision re-created for you.

But of course, unlike a painting, a garden doesn’t stay still for very long. A painting will simply sit there and never change. However, the moment the garden designer walks away – in fact the very day the planting is complete – things begin to change. Guess what, the plants grow! Sometimes they grow bigger than expected, dwarfing and suffocating their neighbours. Sometimes they don’t grow as big as they should. Sometimes they don’t grow at all: sometimes they die! Sometimes so-called long-lived perennials turn up their heals at a remarkably young age. Maybe that shrub that the book said will have an ultimate height of 1.5 metres will eventually be larger than that 3 metre tree sitting next to it!

Plants spread and multiply in a variety of ways, and without a gardener’s (hard-earned) knowledge of how effectively they reproduce their progeny, you will find some plants acting like ever-increasing army invaders, marching across your soil, overcoming and consuming all other plants as they go. Others will self-seed like crazy giving you (or your gardener) hours and hours of (expensive) weeding. Basically, plants go up and down, move around, grow and recede, live and die... and to manage this in an imaginative, skilled and creative way, eventually you’ll need a good gardener. Even if that good gardener needs to be you!



This is where the role of a skilled, creative gardener usurps the garden designer. I once remember asking a garden designer how I could break out of garden maintenance and get into garden design. Her advice? Change your business card to read ‘Garden designer’. That made me chuckle. I am totally convinced that there are people out there who, when it comes to gardens, really know how best to manipulate vacant spaces, similar to how theatre set designers can work miracles with what is essentially empty volumes of air waiting to be filled with shapes, solidity and perspective. This is a real skill and an incredible talent: something I’m not very good at.



However, if one definition of a garden is ‘an area of land usually planted with grass, trees and flowerbeds’ (Oxford OED) then I believe the complex relationship between plant communities are worthy of our study and consideration: elements of their aesthetic; the ethics of ecology and sustainability etc. Slowly building up a community of happy plants, acting as good social neighbours, where each citizen compliments the other – to me at least – is how great gardens are made. The skilled gardener, tailoring, manipulating, tweaking and editing borders to maintain and develop natural beauty.

Finally, when it comes to gardens, I don’t even know what a garden is anymore! Funny, I said that to a woman at a restaurant recently and she almost fell off her chair! She said that surely you of all people – with a Master’s degree in Garden History – should know what a garden is. Anyway, my response was far too long to write here, and who knows, maybe one day it’ll be the subject of a much larger piece of work – What is a Garden?

So maybe all I will say is this. Quoting Socrates: ‘The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing’.  

Thanks for reading.

Marc

le Jardinier. 

Monday, 19 November 2018

Our Brexit Borders!

Image result for batemans gardens



Okay, so our domestic gardens are still in the grip of Arts & Crafts, Edwardian borders. Whatever effect the naturalistic movement has had over the past 30 years, it really hasn’t made much of a dent in the ‘average’ garden of the UK. There’s not many British garden owners willing to rip out entire borders and re-imagine them wholesale – not without their beloved evergreen shrub layer, peonies and delphiniums… and those ubiquitous roses: adjective’seeming to be everywhere’.


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A rose is a rose.... is a rose... is a rose.......ZZzzzz
I hate to say it, but maybe our attitude toward garden design, somewhat reflects our attitude towards the European Union and the Brexit vote. Maybe the truth is, that whilst the likes of Germany, Holland and Scandinavia have – in the last 50 years – been forging ahead with innovative, philosophical, ecological and ideological plantings, Englanders still believe they have the best gardens in the world. Trouble is, these gardens all  – pretty much – look the same. Yes, I know we have some gardens where conceptualism and land art have produced contemporary visions of what a garden ‘space’ could look like, but in plant-based gardens – those built around planting design - our gardens still tend to emulate the average National Trust garden, and once you’ve seen one, you’ve kind of seen ‘em all.

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A National Trust border.................... somewhere....????


I believe I had a 2-year membership of the National Trust that I let expire about 20 years ago. Always one to get my money’s worth, in that 2-year period I think I must’ve seen about 30 NT gardens, and whilst I’ve no doubt that they were all very nice, and reflected a huge of amount horticultural skill on the part of all those involved, I just tired of the ‘preserved in aspic’ feel to them: by the end of my membership they had somehow all blurred into one homogenous green jelly of trees, shrubs, climbers and herbaceous borders…. and those roses of course! 

Obviously, I realise that these gardens had to stay relatively in-keeping with the houses they wrapped around, but these are the gardens we Brits were exposed to every weekend, and unfortunately, these were the gardens we went on to emulate around our own homes. 
Now, this blog post is not really the place for a detailed look at what the rest of Europe was doing with garden design whilst we were still tending to our roses, but if you are keen to find out maybe Google search phrases such as: ‘German naturalistic planting’… or ‘Dutch naturalistic planting’… or simply just ‘naturalistic planting’. Either way, you’ll be taken on a journey far far away from the gardens of Sissinghurst, Nymans, Batemans… ZZZZZzzzzzzzzz…..…..?????


Vlinderhof in Holland. Now compare that to the average National Trust Garden!

Such a search might lead you towards the trial gardens of Hermanshoff, Germany, where the current curator Cassian Schmidt continues to trial site-specific mixed perennial plantings, revolutionising what can be done in moist, fertile soils, with the constant aim of creating harmonious and attractive, low-maintenance borders.


Hermannshof
Maybe a Google search (other search engines are available) will take you back to the likes of perennial and grass breeders Ernst Pagels and Karl Foerster, two hugely influential nurserymen responsible for much of today’s naturalistic planting design. Then there’s the Ruys legacy emanating from Deedemsvart, Holland.  Mien Ruys – daughter of Bonne Ruys - took over the running of her father’s perennial nursery and began experimenting with hard landscape materials, bringing elements of Bauhaus and Mondrian formality to some very informal plantings: naturalistic exuberance within a strict modernist framework.

Of course, there are many criss-crossing links of concatenation that connect our European friends with what we were doing in our own Arts & Crafts borders. Ruys had spent time in England (Tunbridge Wells in fact) observing the borders of Gertrude Jekyll before returning to Holland to re-imagine a similar aesthetic back home. 


Mien Ruys. The informal, within the formal.



A nice little Mien Ruys touch.

Even Piet Oudolf, with his obvious flare and genius for planting design, would gladly admit to the huge influence the gardens of England (Beth Chatto, Dixter and Blooms of Bressingham) had on his early design vision. In combining the fundamental design of an English herbaceous border with the steady influence of German naturalistic planting, Oudolf re-exported a contemporary version of Robinson’s wild garden to a nation grown tired of high-maintenance, colour-themed borders.  Also, by merging the formal with the informal, taking in design influences from all around Europe, and by using the robustness of many a prairie plant, Oudolf recreated a vision of naturalism that seemed to represent a version of meadow inherently  lodged in our primordial psyche somewhere.   


All within a formal framework....

What ‘naturalistic planting’ tries to achieve is something resembling natural plant communities from around the world. Say, the Russian Steppes, or North American Prairies etc. That’s the aesthetic. The ecological aspect aims to create low-maintenance borders which reduce the need for labour (staking, watering, feeding), and by selecting non-invasive, neighbour-friendly plants, aggressive weeds (so prevalent in our fertile soils) can literally be squeezed out of our borders.  Naturalistic planting design is both an art form and a science with the likes of James Hitchmough and Nigel Dunnett creating seed-based naturalistic vegetation that offer a low-cost, carbon-friendly solution to the problem of public plantings.


Oh, why can't our street planting look like this? Naturalistic planting in Utrecht, Holland.

I do feel that the naturalistic (New Perennial?) bandwagon might be slowing down somewhat. Those cultish gardeners who (like me) have always questioned the possibilities and potential of moving away from traditional gardening, and looked towards global plant communities for their inspiration, are simply not seeing their interest reap dividends and influence the domestic gardens of England.


A lesson in 'less is more'.....
As with our attitude towards Brexit, my fear is that we’ll just carry on arrogantly thinking that we have the best gardens in the world, prolonging a garden style that has already been hanging around far too long, and all the while our European neighbours will be forging ahead with innovative, stylish design. We on the other hand will no doubt still be breeding new roses (like we really need any more!), staking our delphiniums, displaying hosta leaves in bottles and trying to win the local fete’s ‘Largest Pumpkin’ competition at the local village fair!

Until next time. Thanks for reading!

Thursday, 6 September 2018

Naturalistic Design




My gardening ‘business’ hasn’t anything as fancy as a strapline, a mission statement, or even a business model come to think of it. I tend to keep my attitude towards the work I do pretty simple: I simply say that I just ‘go gardening’. I love plants and gardens, so why wouldn’t I want to work with both? 

However, on my travels, little logos and quirky straplines do often come to me. I imagine a flowery and colourful van displaying such lines as ‘Working in partnership, with both you and your garden’. Good one eh? Or, another one I came up with is… ‘To get a great garden… get a great gardener’. I really like that one! I like it so much because it’s true.

There’s always been a bit of a divide between the role of garden designer and that of gardener.  Of course, for some strange reason – and it’s probably a class/ego thing – it’s the role of Garden Designer that always seems to attract the fame, status and kudos. It’s the garden designers who hit the headlines and our TV screens during Chelsea week and who publish those huge coffee-table books. Over the years, I’ve met countless people who want to become garden designers, yet very few who want to devote their working lives to mere gardening.

Of course, there are many types of garden designer, and many types of gardener, with a wide shade of grey to help blend and blur the two together. Many garden designers know very little about plants (in terms of both identification and habitat) as do the many maintenance ‘gardeners’ I come across.  I’ve met so many gardeners who will gladly tell you that they’ve received no formal horticultural training, yet feel themselves to be excellent gardeners because they have some kind of ‘gardening instinct’…. a green-fingered intuition! 



Now, I’m all for gardening intuition. In fact, once you’ve been gardening for a very long time, you do begin to work on an intuitive level. It’s hard to put into words, but (over time) the relationships you form with plants can become rather intimate and personal, and very soon you find yourself relating to them in ways you never imagined possible, with the confidence to prune shrubs, move and divide perennials etc at times that you know are right for the plant itself, and not just when the books tell you. When asked the correct time to do a particular garden task, the great Christopher Lloyd once said the right time is when you, a) remember to do it, b) when the plant is right there in front of you… and c) if you happen to have the correct tool on you at the time!

I’ve never really understood the role of garden designer. By all means call in someone to help design and arrange the space in a garden: someone who knows how to organise space; who also knows about the myriad of hard landscaping materials one can use. In fact, I have met a few ex-theatre and film set designers who have used their skills and talents in this very arena. However, when it comes to the planting, give me a knowledgeable plantsperson any day of the week: those horticulturists who have an affinity with plants; who know how they work, what their individual demands are, how they behave in competition with each other and the natural communities they come from.... and so on!



Also, let’s be honest, once designed - by a designer - the garden is often left in the hands of a gardener (competent or otherwise) who, following 10 years of maintenance and editing, now maintains a garden very different from the designer's original creation: maybe the dead perennials have been exchanged for others more suited to the site and soil, or the box hedging that failed spectacularly (Box Moth or blight) has been ripped out and replaced.

The creative gardener may have taken out the roses, adding ornamental grasses and annuals instead: they may have planted the odd small specimen tree – who knows? Good gardens can be achieved by design, but truly great gardens are created with knowledge, skill and love! 

There’s a garden I work in – a huge, richly-diverse garden – where i’ve worked for just over 8 years now. In that time, the owners have been great, and have allowed me (almost) complete and free reign with regards the plantings. I’ve made many, many changes to the borders in that time. Luckily, the ‘lady of the house’ has a great eye for other things in the garden and can visualise the empty spaces within the landscape and knows very well how to fill those spaces. Anyway, recently I came across some planting plans for the garden. The plans date back about 10 years and show how the borders were originally planted up and what plants were used there at the time. As I say, I’ve been there about 8 years, and looking at those plans now, I reckon the percentage of those original plants probably runs at about 10%.... and I’m being very generous in that estimation. That’s 90% of the plants disappeared in just 10 years!

I recently attended a 2-day Beth Chatto Symposium held at Essex University. The first of its kind, the symposium acted as a kind of meeting place for high horticultural thinkers; like-minded, ecologically-inclined, naturalistic plantspeople (growers and designers) who gave some amazing talks, panel discussions and numerous creative insights into the current state of all things horticultural. The learning potential there was huge, and no doubt many of us there for those 2 days will be thinking about the issues and ideas raised there for a very long time indeed.

One thing that really impacted on me though – and verbalised by almost all of the speakers – was the way in which they held garden maintenance in such high regard: the highest regard. I really wasn’t expecting that.
The point that was stressed (time and time again) was how maintenance needn’t be that of household drudgery. With highly naturalistic plantings, and ecologically-inspired design, the role of the gardener becomes elevated to that of co-creator, pivotal in the evolution and future direction of the garden. 

In such an environment the skilled gardener uses his/her talents to manipulate the landscape; to edit the borders, to sculpt and direct the beauty contained within. Through correct identification, it’s the gardener who decides what happy accidents (self-sown seedlings) to leave in, take out, or transfer elsewhere. It’s the gardener who chooses how to manipulate a plant’s growth (Chelsea Chopping or Hampton Hacking), and in doing so, enhancing the plant’s natural beauty. For the skilled gardener, suddenly maintenance becomes artistic…. creative. In my opinion, this can only really happen with highly ‘naturalistic’ garden design that has been built with ecological intentions and a naturalistic aesthetic.... together with that constant quest for what is beautiful.

So, there are garden designers…. And then there are garden designers! I regard true garden designers as those individuals who love plants; who have studied plants; who have looked at their growth habits and natural habitats, and who have then taken inspiration from those habitats. These are knowledgeable plantspeople who want to emulate nature and natural landscapes, and who also want to deliver us a version of enhanced nature, bringing this into the realm of what we call, a garden.

Here's some of my little border creations from this year.....

From this small empty bed, to......
..... this! This is just year one, so it needs to fill out into next year!
The bed next to it was also created from scratch. I filled it up with these little darlings!

The end result for the entire border. All in one year!




Even postage stamp-sized beds can be improved.....

Just a few months later.
My exotic border creation.
I think the bamboo is the only plant left over from those 10-year old plans.  
A raised bed in desperate need of some TLC.
A work in progress this one!

And finally, a small (9sqm) patch turned over largely to grasses. This was only planted in May this year.
Me skimming off fancy curves!
My rough plan.
As I say, very early days, but next year looks promising!
Oh well, that's it for now. Thanks for reading!

Marc
XX