Why Creating a Garden is Good for You

Whenever I have been asked to open our garden for viewing, even if only for a small group as part of a private viewing, I am overcome with doubts. Doubts that the garden I'm creating is worthy of a visit, or that the love I have for garden making is somehow diminished by others' opinions!

My gardens have always been created piece by piece, dream by dream, and disappointment upon disappointment. In other words, I have poured labour, precious pennies and lots of hope into any garden design. They will never measure up to the pictures we see in magazine spreads, or on social media, or television. My gardens have always been very personal, limited by my own labour but always fueled by my love for the process of garden-making, of creating something lovely from so little.

I have never been fond of lots of hard landscaping, bordered by pristine rows of hedges brought in fully grown and ready-made. My hedges have always been a mirage; one precious plant bought at the nursery which has been judiciously pruned to strike numerous cuttings. I lovingly created a Sasanqua Camellia hedge this way; one that I left when we moved only mid-way through its growth to maturity. I remember when I first started creating this hedge and naively sharing my enthusiasm for this process with some neighbours. Not impressed with my philosophy of starting small, they were quite dismissive of my tenderly nurtured little plants. "Why don't you just buy some full-sized Camellias?" they cried with not a little derision!

I realised then that crafting a garden from scratch as a true labour of love may not always be understood nor appreciated; one where each plant, each sweep of design, each artfully placed tree or shrub becomes part of a larger mission. To create a garden is to take up a mantle of timelessness, where the planting may not be fully mature for years to come and the promise of tomorrow for today is enough.

While I might enjoy watching garden shows that begin with a blank slate and end up a 'completed' garden, often to screams of delight from the garden owner, it seems that a garden achieved this way is missing something intangible. And I am left wondering where the soul of the garden is.

So, what constitutes a garden with 'soul'? I recall my grandfather's small garden that wrapped around his humble cottage. Set within acres of farmland, he spent his retirement years nurturing an azalea hedge that made the perfect hiding place for small grandchildren, large floppy-headed hydrangeas that draped over verandah steps, and a pretty patch of front lawn featuring spring bulbs each year. As a small child I was fascinated to learn that after this show of spring colour, Grandpa would leave his front lawn unkempt and unmown until the bulbs had died down completely. The wisteria running along the front fence received the same level of attention, with a spectacular show of purple bloom once a year.

A garden nurtured in this way, over years and even decades, requires thought, careful planning and an awareness of how small a role we play in the larger scheme of things. This awareness comes with a certain awe, an appreciation of nature's bounty and beauty, of the sense of purpose and legacy that creating a garden, no matter how large or small, brings to the gardener.

And it is from this bounty that breeds an uncommon generosity, where armfuls of blooms and foliage are carefully gathered for a special occasion. This might be a bucket of gorgeous blooms picked and given to a neighbour or friend as a token of support or appreciation. Or precious heirloom roses grown and nurtured months ahead for a daughter, niece or granddaughter's wedding. I recall blooms grown and shared in this way in our community growing up. Even now it fills me with joy to hear stories of this type of generosity, where an abundant bouquet is picked from a garden overflowing with lovely flowers, voluptuous roses and scented foliage for a celebration, or just because.

Gardens such as these provide places of sanctuary, nourishment and a feeling of being connected to community as well as nature. There's no need with such a garden to purchase stiff, unscented roses that will never fully open because they've been dipped in toxic chemicals to survive long haul flights across the planet. Or bundles of plastic wrapped foliage that are half dead, needing to be held under water, leaves and all, to revive them.

One small garden at a time can provide habitat for tiny wrens and other birds, or beneficial insects like bees, butterflies and hoverflies: sanctuaries for humans as well as wildlife. Gardens are places of healing and while gardeners have always known this, science is now irrefutably demonstrating this too. So why wouldn't we put our soul into the gardens we create?

How lovely, and life enriching to be able to touch the soil with bare hands, to walk under the sun, rain and clouds, to plant a small seed, take a tiny cutting from a large shrub, knowing they will eventually grow into something breathtakingly lovely, full of fruit or flower, offering shade and shelter, and all for the price of time, labour and not a little love! And even from time to time, to be able to share a little of this lovely bounty.

I can't think of a better way to spend some time, can you?

xxLillian

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