Well, we finally decided, after the Welsh government just kept on locking us down, to stay closed this year. The risks and problems seem just too much. So we’ve gone on having the garden to ourselves. Well, almost – we’ve had some happy visits from friends.
I talked about the costs and pleasures of opening with one friend, as we walked round the garden. She had also decided not to open this year.
We thought about how opening can mean you meet some really interesting people, but then they leave and you never see them again. I was thinking this was perhaps inevitable, because of the nature of the encounter, then we remembered it was actually how we had met. And I have been lucky enough to make some other friends through garden opening. But it’s comparatively rare, though I think it was one of the things I most hoped for from opening the garden. Most of my friends, perhaps strangely, are not primarily interested in gardens.
As many readers will know, I avoid doing garden tours. I am shy and find it hard to face, suffering something like stage fright every time I meet strangers. And I find it hard, on paths designed for just one or two people, to manage talking to a large group. And what to say? What will be of interest to all of them?
But there is great joy in walking round the garden with a genuinely interested one, two – or three -? people. As there was the other day with Sue. Part of the pleasure is familiarity with each other’s gardens, the problems and possibilities: one garden can illuminate the other. Part of the pleasure is problem solving or sharing – there is no shame in failures with a friend.
And most important, perhaps, there is the pleasure of sharing a pleasure. It is special, and important, to be able to show someone a flower that is a delight. And for the first time I realised that that is an innocent pleasure. I am not really responsible for the beauty of a flower, there is no showing off in sharing it. Just the good in being able to give pleasure to someone else.
And I recognised that the same applies even where I am more responsible. There is great pleasure in sharing a result of planning, planting and designing. In the garden this often feels as much like luck as good management, given the vagaries of the weather, the idiosyncrasies of plants, the miscalculations of the garden maker. So while there may be some pride in hitting the (momentary) spot, it is always tinged with astonishment that you may actually have pulled it off this time. And that is a pleasure which is very good to share.
I sometimes don’t even tell Charles the struggle I may be putting into achieving a particular result. For example, I had a Persicaria alpina in the Crescent Border (above) and saw what a dramatic and prolonged flowering it offers. I imagined that instead of an unbalanced one, at one side of the border, I could have several, all through the border. I will probably tell you all just what this involved sometime, as there are things to discover about planting into a border full of very well established, vigorous plants. But my point here is that there is a pleasure too in sharing the progress of such a plan with a sympathetic someone. I now have six of them surviving and I expect to be able to see them next year. Then the year after……
And there is consolation in sharing disasters with a sympathetic friend…..
I suppose I’ve too often reproached myself for what I think of as ‘showing off’ and maybe too often noticed how unsatisfying simple praise can be. But those things tend to be associated with distance – the distance from an ‘audience’. I’ve sometimes thought at the theatre, you can clap and cheer all you like, but I bet the actors get most from the praise of a colleague. There is an inevitable need for publicity when you’re selling a garden (or a book) so we must publish pictures on social media, for example, and hope they look special. (And sometimes you have to plonk them in a blog post to break up all the verbosity.) It’s nice when people ‘like’ them but it’s not terribly rewarding. Neither, truly, is just having people look at the garden. It’s remunerative and for that reason maybe important. But how could it be closer to the pleasure of wandering a garden with a friend? Or even one, two – or maybe three? – really interested, knowledgeable people? Could it be? Is there a way to open a garden that way?
I’m waiting for the perfect day to wander through the garden with a friend who has seen the garden at every step of the way. His views always enrich my enjoyment — and my knowledge. To duplicate that personal experience with a group seems close to impossible. There is so much information to convey and so little time to get feedback from visitors seeing a garden for the first time.
You may be right. Even a very small group??
The size of the group matters, so does the amount of time they are spending in the garden. I love talking to the visitors who have, and take, the time to look, ask questions and think about the response before expressing preconceived views. That is truly rewarding, and happens only occasionally. Most groups simply don’t have the time, instead moving on to the next garden before truly considering the first.
We’re thinking about how we could arrange/organise pleasure for ourselves (strange idea!) in having paying visitors, (as well as coach parties..) so it’s more about how could we make this work?
Tough question. It seems necessary to engage with the visitors which may be hard for you and for them to stay longer than most actually stay. I give a talk about garden visiting that seems apt: the talk is arranged around three simple points. You have to stop, look and listen. Many garden visitors do this, others don’t.
You are so right. Never mind look up as well as down. See my reply to Judy and let me know what you think about that?
You have said so well what I have been thinking for a very long time.
That always feels great! Thanks for telling me.
Lovely pictures and comments
Thank you.
Gardens are a work over time. In most tours, you rush through and barely see what’s there. I really need to sit and have a cup of coffee and contemplate how the sun hits the plants over the day, and how the wind moves them, and what the morning and mid afternoon smells are. When Jason and I visited Pat at Glen Villa, we heard the history and thought that went into the garden, and the work over time, so that was much more meaningful than an anonymous tour. Even better was when we both worked near Lurie Garden and could walk through almost daily and see the progress of individual plants and the gradual change over the seasons (including winter, an unlikely time for a garden tour).
I so agree. I keep wondering about how we could do this better for ourselves and visitors (without excluding the usual tours). When friends or photographers come they often stay overnight so we can see the garden with them in the afternoon/evening and they can see it by themselves in the morning while we are still in bed. (That’s most of the morning) We have no shower in the Railway Carriage though – the electricity supply hasn’t enough power. I wonder if we could offer something along these lines though to just couples. What do you think?
I remember Judy and Jason’s visit to Glen Villa with a great deal of pleasure — just the kind of visitor everyone hopes to have.
Having slept in that railway carriage (very nice and comfortable it was, too), I think that having one couple staying there with the opportunity to see the garden at all times of day could work well. Perhaps they would arrive mid afternoon, get settled and have a walk around in late afternoon, either with you or Charles or on their own. Then they could walk around on their own in early morning, with a chat or talk scheduled for late morning or early afternoon. Not sure how you’d handle dinner and lunch — perhaps they would drive to the nearest place or perhaps bring their own food or possibly have one meal with you. Not sure how you’d vet the people beforehand, or if you would want to. But somehow I doubt that the visit would be a disaster either way. One potential downside: almost certainly there would be a limited market.
Another possibility would be to have one couple stay at Veddw, another couple stay somewhere nearby with the same visiting privileges. Sometimes a conversation with six people can be more rewarding than one with four.
This is the way I’m thinking. Spot on. The critical bit would/will be how to invite such visitors? A limited market would be fine – I don’t see this as profit making so much as pleasure, for all parties. Thanks for the encouragement. Xxx
Perfectly timed post Anne. I too have been struggling with not being able to share the garden with ‘plant people.’ We are less locked down than you are, and have a few get togethers with friends for lawn games or a drink, but they are not plant people. Most of my plant friends are older and still sheltering, so it will be a while until they are comfortable. You are right – there is something different between studious discourse on a plant or placement, and a simple “that’s pretty.” It feels shallow to even write those words, but it’s nevertheless true – we need input to keep moving forward, and you can feel when you are almost twisting someone’s arm to go look through the entire garden.
So sick about your yew.
Sick about your cancelled visit too. Your visit would have been (I hope will be) such a treat, and we do sometimes know that that will be the case, by knowing something of the visitor beforehand. But what if we don’t? A test!? This has got me laughing now……
Much as I try to open the garden, it’s really for me. I would love to have visitors but on my own terms. I want a system like the passive, silent one at Rousham. You drive in, park, pay a machine (payment might be optional), then wander totally on your own around the garden. I’ve actually fantasized about advertising the garden as freely open, like a public park. I’d like to see people out there, I might even talk to them if they want, or if I want. But they could come, see if it’s of interest to them, then we could talk, possibly by email, cell phone, or even in person. But groups are difficult.
I like your passive system, and have wondered about how possible that might be. But mostly I like (need?) to be able to wander in the garden whenever I like without fear of having to be sociable. I fear that the Lockdown has made me even more reclusive. Not having to meet and greet would be good. And that is built in with groups. But I wonder how many groups will be travelling next year anyway…?
Talking to people who have visited and found themselves interested in more than the name of a plant could be of real interest though. Nice idea.