The joy of plants versus garden fashion
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Every so often I hear comments that make me wonder about the state of gardening and plant appreciation. Such a comment was made to me recently by nursery owner friend of mine. He said "I used to grow the unusual plants, really interesting things, but there's no market for them now. All the real gardeners must have died, now we only get trend followers and people looking for quick space-fillers."
I have always found that the appreciation of plants for their own sake is vastly underrated. It is unfortunate that those of us who write about plants tend to approach the subject from one of three points of view: the technical or botanical text; the practical gardening, landscaping or plant identification guide; and the garden diary or reminiscence. Now, the fact is plants surround us and their beauty or intricacy often entrances us. Yet most of seldom stop to consider their finer botanical points or how they may be used in gardens; we just accept them for what they are: an integral part of the world in which we live.
However, few writers discuss plants from a point of view that says here are the plants, these are a few of the things that make them interesting, just look at them. Perhaps it's an approach that is more suited to a visual medium, because television programmes often look at plants that way. Television producers know they can't afford to baffle their viewers with botanical jargon, nor can they look at all the ways a plant can be used in gardens, so they take the natural history angle. And it is very successful, as David Attenborough would testify.
I've worked as a gardener and a nurseryman and I've grown plants for purely for pleasure, but I now find that I really don't feel the need to actually grow plant to appreciate them. Nor do I find it necessary to adopt a scientific approach and become a botanist. I'm not obsessed with analysing the fine detail of plants. I'm prepared to settle for checking of the species in my notebook rather than having to keep them in captivity. It's something like being a bird-spotter rather than a zookeeper.
Now, I'm not trying to lessen or denigrate gardeners or gardening in any way. It's just that I find that many people who might be interested in plants are reluctant to pursue their interest because they have no interest in gardening or garden matters, nor do they want to get involved in botany or environmentalism. They simply enjoy looking at plants and appreciating some of their finer points, just like most of enjoy a glass of wine without feeling the need to test its specific gravity or plant a vine.
So what is my point? Well, only that we non-gardening plant enthusiasts are rather poorly catered for. We get to walk around the botanic garden occasionally, but other than that you'd better be a gardener or be prepared to go on long hikes into the wilderness. What's more we're made to feel like voyeurs; the attitude among gardeners seems to be one of "if you're not going to grow it, why are you looking at it?" There also seems to be a view that in order for us to see a plant someone has to grow it, so we're really nothing more than freeloaders.
Bookshops are full of gardening books but have very little in the way of informative plant guides other than field guides for particular regions and perhaps a coffee table book on orchids or the like. I know why. It's because publishers can't see a market for such books, and if they do decide to produce one they decide to tack on the phrase for gardeners or the like after the title. When I was writing a regualr magazine column it was called The Country Gardener, even though I only rarely dealt with gardening. Well, what can I say? Don't think it didn't make me feel guilty. I'd rather it had been The Plant-spotter or something similar, but doubtless the editor had his reasons.
Maybe I'm alone or in very restricted company, but my ideal plant book would have at least one colour photograph of every plant mentioned, a thorough rundown on where and how it occur in the wild, brief botanical details, an anecdote or two about each plant and absolutely nothing about cultivation. Who knows, I may even see it one day if I can find a willing publisher.
Fashion, Plant Knowledge and Gardening as a State of Mind.
As a plant photographer and writer, and former nurseryman and salesman there's no doubt that I am in a better position than most to indulge my enthusiasm for plants without having to grow and maintain them under garden conditions. However, it's being exposed to so many plants, gardens and gardeners that has made me the embittered cynic that after reading this you will probably be convinced I am. (I'm not, truly.)
It's through daily dealings with people such as those with landscape plans who have no idea what plant 53 on their plan may be but who must have that precise plant because that's what's on the plan, or those that must have a white garden for no better reason than because they saw one in a magazine, or those that must create some new scheme because that's what the latest garden expert of the month recommends that I have become somewhat disillusioned with gardens, but not with plants I hasten to add. Dammit, where have all the individualists gone? Where are the people with their own ideas and where are those really keen enthusiasts who know almost all there is to know about their plants: the ones who might just have an idea what number 53 is, or does? Has it all come down to glib catchphrases such as "the garden as an extension of indoor living", "the garden room" or worst of all "lifestyle living", whatever that may be? And does anyone actually read any of those millions of gardening books that are published annually or are they just looking at the pictures?
Fortunately it's not as bad as all that. There are still plenty of people for whom the plants are paramount but if we don't watch out and cultivate plant knowledge as being at least the equal of garden creation and design we really do run the risk of ending up with a garden world that has more than its fair share of posturing pseuds and the ignorant.
Many people do, of course, enjoy the act of gardening: for them it has a relaxing and therapeutic benefit and I wouldn't for one minute wish to be thought of as denigrating such people. And, naturally enough, I realise that if you want to enjoy plants in your own domain you have to have somewhere to grow them and a garden is the obvious place, but it strikes me that if you don't understand or appreciate the plants what's the point of having a garden? Surely it's not just to satisfy some fashion sense, to impress the neighbours or because there has to be something to cover all that bare earth. There's got to be more to it than that!
There are many people (and despite having developed several gardens I include myself among them) who are fascinated by plants yet for whom gardening is all a bit too much like hard work. It's not necessarily that we can't stand hard work. (What's so bad about admitting that anyway?) Nor is it that we don't appreciate a perfectly planned and maintained garden, rather we tend to delight in the details of individual plants. For us the plants are more important that the garden: the whole is not greater than the sum of its parts, and I'm firmly of the opinion that our gardening knowledge and heritage is far safer with such people than with those more interested in the surface gloss and passing fads.
The plants that most often catch our eyes are the small yet intriguing specimens that are often sold as "little treasures" or "rockery delights". Because of this we plant enthusiasts have tended to be called names like "miniaturists" or "collectors" and been lumped in with the rockery and alpine gardeners. Sure, tiny rockery shrubs and alpine perennials make up the bulk of the "little treasures" but in these days of ever decreasing garden size more and more gardeners are turning to having plants for interest's sake at least as much as for effect. It's not just a matter of being fascinated by the cute and appealing it's more a case of maintaining an almost child-like wonder at the diversity of plants as a whole. But of course a closer view of that diversity is more accessible with small plants.
I tend to look at the trend towards smaller urban gardens as something of a counter-thrust to the overpowering effect that fashion, promoted through advertising, garden magazines and television programmes, has had on gardening in recent years. So many people simply want to copy the marvellous effects seen in the larger and more public gardens that are held up as the best examples of that horrible term "garden style". However, without the money, space, time or labour that such works of art and dedication require their efforts are usually doomed to be little more than pale imitations. It's interesting to note that in this so-called "information age" there seems to be no shortage of people who prefer to be led by the nose rather that develop their own ideas on the basis of the wealth of information that is so readily available.
Thankfully, many gardeners eventually realise that even the most elaborate and well-maintained garden is essentially a transitory and temporary thing that may possibly be nothing more than a status symbol. It's the love and enjoyment of plants and nature that really count because they are the lasting things. A garden can become a burden, especially as we grow older, but an appreciation of plants for their own sake is never a chore and can be enjoyed with unabated enthusiasm throughout life.
Indeed it's perfectly possible to do this sort of gardening without a garden or perhaps without ever owning a plant. Voyeurism you may say, well maybe, but I prefer to think of it as gardening in the mind: the Zen of the gardening world. Gardening and plant cultivation become a state of mind, you put yourself in the plant's position and you see the garden and growing conditions from the plant's perspective. The ability to do that instinctively is what distinguishes the truly green-fingered among us.
The British have always seemed reasonably at home with the concept of the plantsman (or plantswoman) as being someone distinct from gardener. Such a term was perhaps too elitist to catch on widely elsewhere, but instead of coming up with a more acceptable term we have tended to ignore the idea entirely and celebrated the gardener instead.
This has led to a gardening society that often operates on the basis that provided you have some idea of garden design and your basic domestic requirements: paths, clothes line, etc. then there's little need for plant knowledge in the development and maintenance of a garden. In reality the reverse is true: if you know and understand the basic requirements, history and relationships of your plants then sensible and practical garden design and maintenance becomes second nature. A little knowledge may be a dangerous thing and a gardener with but a little knowledge is seldom more than a glorified weed puller but at least it's a starting point. Interestingly the most knowledgeable gardeners are often the most self-effacing, they know they're never going to know it all whereas the know-it-alls don't know how little they know.
So a plea. Know your plants before you worry too much about garden style. The gardeners through the ages whose ideas have most influenced our own were, almost without exception, first and foremost plant enthusiasts. The styles they promoted primarily reflected their likes and dislikes but always within their knowledge and understanding of their plants' requirements. The idea that gardening is nothing more than a form of green architecture where style is more important than substance and nature is subjugated to the whims of a designer is a relatively modern aberration that doesn't merit being called gardening. It may smack of Karl Marx but I believe that the true gardener has far more in common with the nineteenth century Yorkshire miners who cultivated the most exquisite forms of plants such as Primula auricula, in areas often little larger than a windowsill, than with the average Vogue reader.
Copyright Geoff Bryant
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