Am I a gardener?

I have difficulty identifying with social media gardeners. I can’t bear Gardener’s World, and I don’t enjoy reading gardening books. I’ve always felt more like the Young Ones’ Vivian crashing through Felicity Kendal’s Good Life. Bloody Felicity Kendal.

I would never judge anyone who enjoys these things because I can see that the pursuit of knowledge, the desire to improve, and the desire to make things pretty are admirable ambitions. I would never take away from anyone’s wish to garden. Because, regardless of what you think of your garden, growing something is so much more important. Going beyond the world of know-how and home improvement, gardening is a connection to the world we all need. And the world needs it too. 

My message is – You know what you grow, the more you grow, the more you know.

But as for me, the idea of gardening is overwhelming. There’s so much I don’t know. I don’t have time for seeds. I don’t have space to bring things on. I’m not inclined to find the right food for the right plants, be it bonemeal or tomato feed. 

Take my lawn. It has a lot of weeds and dead patches. The reason I have a lawn is that I have a family. A dog that tears it up and shits on it. A boy who creates jumps for his bike. If I were to be precious over my lawn then I’d spend hours and money on it, only for some twat dog to dig it up. I would rather spend that money and those hours on ice cream while my son bores me with different parts he wants for his bike. I have no interest in perfection if it takes me away from more meaningful things.

That is my approach to gardening. Spend nothing, do as little as possible. 

But it is also my job to produce flowers to photograph. I end up planting hundreds of bulbs in autumn and spring. The result is that my garden is full of flowers and looks bloody amazing. 

It’s October and just this week I have been thinking about ground elder a lot. I’m thinking I should try to lift it out when I plant my bulbs. But I still have dahlias in flower, and I don’t want to lose them too early.

It dawned on me that my preoccupation with this thought, along with the addition of mud under my nails, stinging nettle stings, muddy knees, and scrapes on my arm from moving a large log, means I probably am a gardener.  

Here is my gardening blog.