Garden Journal No.16 – Time for Change

| Gary Webb

In this new style garden journal I don my waterproofs, go apple and pumpkin picking, plant up a present and rake up the problem of leaves in the garden.

Shapes and Shades of Autumn

As we approach the hunter’s moon on Monday uncertainty fills the air for gardeners across the UK and further afield. Storm Austen is making its presence felt as I write and cold on its heals is storm Boelo. Whilst some places will be hit harder than others, it’s clear that beyond the weekend change is likely to have come to gardens near you.

So far, this autumn has been deliciously mellow and its warmth has brought many useful gardening days. Indeed only yesterday you’d have found me knelt down in a cottage garden border under glorious sunshine, deciding which seedlings could stay to become next year’s flowery stars. Today though I work from home with Austen’s wind buffeting the shed in which I write. A nearby birch tree bends this way and that, long streaks of rain streak down the window and I’m staying well out of it whilst I have the chance. What a difference a day makes.

A gardener’s lot, whether agreeable or not, is to accept the weather however it turns out. The well-practised gardener will have learned from experience and prepared well for whatever comes their way, but even then, Mother Nature likes to throw a surprise in here and there, and every tree has its limits. This weekend will deliver surprises I’m sure, as will the fading days of autumn and the winter ahead, so I wish you well wherever you are.

Bright red berries clustered on a mountain ash tree.
Autumn fruits on my mountain ash tree ripe for the plucking.

Our mid-autumn gardens however are due their down time, even more so after such a blisteringly tough old year. We must therefore take heart in knowing that our gardens right now are just where they need to be. As such, embrace your place for everything it is right now, notice the varied shapes and shades of autumn, the seed heads that linger on, colour changing leaves and bright berries hanging in the hedgerows. Join me in slowing the pace, searching for the details and resist the urge to sweep autumn away.

A Poor Crop

I helped out this week with fruit picking where I work in Warwickshire, where traditionally a number of industrial-sized wooden crates are filled each autumn with apples for juicing. The weather of course played its part on the harvest days, as it has all year, although this time it forced us to dress from head to toe in wet weather gear.

A rustling and a scrumping we went with our trugs and extendable apple pickers, with the single aim of emptying each and every tree that carried a crop. Unfortunately, the useable crop was significantly down on quantity and quality compared to previous years.

To be fair, a good number of half-decent fruits were saved as fodder for pigs at the farm, and another good number were sent to the compost heap, as whilst they were not suitable for juicing, there was no desire to waste them. The results of our rainy-day efforts led to much mess room discussion about the reasons for such a poor yield this year. Pruning might have been a possible cause, although none of the trees had been neglected, or maybe it was a case of biennial bearing – where trees can produce a good crop one year but none or very few the next.

A wooden crate holding a range of apples from an English orchard.
The last box of apples from the orchard farm await juicing.

There were also issues with ermine moth caterpillars back in summer, which set up their extensive webbing networks on a number of trees causing damage and devastation as they chomped and stripped the foliage. The primary cause though of which we were pretty sure, was that summer drought had caused much stress to the trees themselves, with little to no moisture being available for months on end.

Whatever the cause, it was a joy to exist and work amongst those orchards this year, and to have had the opportunity to pick direct from the trees alongside the staff and volunteer team – what a special moment that was. Hopefully I’ll get amongst the trees with my pruners over the winter – if I get the chance, I’ll be sure to let you know.

Pumpkin Patch Pickings

Maybe three weeks or so ago, I visited the allotment plot to harvest our squashes (on Instagram as @allotofpotential). Choosing to ignore to the benefits of crop rotation with this particular crop, I stuck with the same growing space again this year, albeit with the addition of much well composted manure. I planted the pale skin coloured ‘Crown Prince’, and the multi-coloured heirloom variety Turk’s Turban.

Over the summer months, even with that soil improvement and a moisture saving ground sheet through which we planted, and with a topping of shredded bark, keeping the plants hydrated and thriving was quite a challenge. All told, around a dozen specimens were harvested, that whilst perfectly formed were a little on the small size, but size isn’t everything as people say.

I’ve grown Jack-O’-lanterns in previous seasons and have produced some lovely pumpkins for carving, but this season I wanted to taste the benefits properly, so to speak, so this year’s crop will not be carved up for Halloween, they are reserved for consumption. Tips for getting the best from a squash gratefully accepted – roasting or souping?

Pots of Joy for Christmas

I don’t usually offer tips, but if I could give one for the moment, it would be sure to ride on the bulb planting wave that is washes around the gardening world at this time of year.

Planting bulbs in pots is a great gifting idea for Christmas. I know, it’s so easy to pop into a garden centre in December and buy a ready-made winter planter as a gift, but does this speak to the gardener in you? Surely it makes sense to personally select the bulbs and plants and enjoy both the retail journey and the process of planting up the container as a gift?

A layer of tulip bulbs sitting on compost in a clay pot, with tubs of planting mix and bulbs nearby.
First layer into this pot – a layer of tulips, followed by more compost and more tulips…

One way to do this is to select a good-sized container along with a range of bulbs to plant in ‘lasagne’ fashion – in layers within the pot according to their preferred depth of planting. This provides you with the retail buzz of selecting a colourful mix of bulbs, let’s say tulips for the lower layer, followed by hyacinths, and maybe some crocus for the top layer. Then follows the green-fingered part where you plant the bulbs in peat-free compost and top it all off with gravel. You can add small winter hardy plants to the top of the pot but that’s entirely optional.

Along with a tag it makes for a weighty old gift, but just imagine the joy of delivering a container at Christmas filled with surprises for spring – the gift that keeps on giving!

Season of Silhouettes

Being in the midst of seasonal change I’m particularly drawn to leaves from deciduous trees at the moment. Many leaves have yet to turn their colours, whilst others are already well on their way to the season of silhouettes.

Red and yellow colours across a vine leaf in the midst of autumn.
Leaves on the vine aging gracefully, much unlike myself.

My role as a gardener practically calls on me to consider which leaves get to stay and hug the ground through winter, and which ones need to be collected and composted for all the good that does. The whys and wherefores of leaf clearing well may be under reconsideration by the great and the good, and I have my own thoughts on the subject, but on a basic level, at least I get to enjoy their snowflake-like individuality up close and personal, and that I love.

I’d also love to know what has caught your autumnal eyes in recent days, a vibrant or unusually shaped leaf, wispy sunlit grasses or fresh shoots on a long-suffering box shrub? Do let me know in the comments.

Best wishes, GW.

Loppers to Laptops – What AI could mean for Horticulture

| Gary Webb

Artificial intelligence is presently changing the ways gardeners find information, plan gardens and approach everyday work. In this personal reflection, I explore what AI could mean for horticulture – and why human knowledge, experience and communication still matter.

Like many folks I have always taken pride in being open to change, and through my horticultural career have frequently needed to alter my course and adapt to new working situations and technologies. Indeed, I could say that I’ve become accustomed to most tools of my trade from loppers and leaf blowers to laptops and laser pointers. However, something that once appeared as just another tool is now beginning to concern me, and that is the use of artificial intelligence (AI) in horticulture.

Before I dig into AI, it’s important to establish that down the years, whilst access to education and information is central, of prime importance is the influence of people, real folks who bring knowledge, lived experience and wisdom to each and every situation. Whilst we know that people can’t be right all the time, I’d be short-sighted not to recognise and value the people who guided me so well, and whilst I can’t fairly list them all here, they do stand side by side in my hall of fame.

Along my gardening ways though and for the delivery of my work, I’ve often needed to research things myself, seeking answers that in the main would have seen me reach for books from a nearby shelf. These days however, with the pressure of needing answers in-the-moment and whilst many of my dog-eared books gather dust on the shelf, I find that I’m more likely to reach for my phone and search for answers on a browser than to flick through a book.

Most gardeners it has to be said would shudder if called an expert, and aside from some stellar individuals, most certainly don’t retain deep wells of knowledge on which to draw in any given moment. To be able to source answers to questions therefore is part of the broad process that is gardening, be that from our own font of knowledge, through books, people, or dare I say, through the internet itself.

That said, the route to information thanks to the devices in our pockets has become established as the new go to, offering a world of knowledge and influence on tap. The world wide web has become something almost all have needed to embrace at some stage, and its use as we all know is embraced in educational settings. Gradually though, I’ve noticed that where previously I would have sought guidance from a good book, discussed a gardening challenge with my colleagues or searched online to find the top answers, these days the latter is most often delivered using AI.

But therein lies the issue, in as much that to ‘Google it’, whilst cutting short those traditional research practices I mentioned before, does also remove elements of the process that helps facts to sink in. To ‘Google it’ takes out, in most circumstances, any connection with a real person, thing or process, and more so now that Google comes incorporated with AI. Most will remember that prior to AI being used in a web-based search, a list of links to information sources would appear, which at least demanded a modicum of further research and source document reading; that is not always the case any more.

In not having information provided by people, though, or found through self-guided learning from trusted publications, it could be said that we’ve actually weakened our professional positions, or that we’ve harmed the process through which we learn; and I say that appreciating that not all people are comfortable in traditional learning environments. I also realise that times change and things progress, and that we need to adapt, but learning can be particular to an individual, so yes – books for some are a complete turn off.

Yet here’s the thing, all of that process, those people and the gardening world we know and care for is I feel at risk of racing away from us on an AI powered machine. On a day-to-day basis we might presently be carrying on much as we always have, but on the quiet, AI is infiltrating every corner of every livelihood, and we must not be blinkered. It doesn’t feel like we are being attacked, more like the solid oak framework upon which many of us have built a working life is slowly being taken apart and synthetically reassembled before our eyes without consent.

I am of course referring to that treasured thing that offers itself, for an undisclosed fee, as the virtual colleague with all the answers to all our questions. It’s an app (there are a few) that entertains and enthrals, allowing us to time travel, to monetise our existence and manipulate our virtual and real time presence. It’s that search box system that has slid effortlessly into our lives with a faceless supervisory air that in no short measure is going to reduce the value of human communication, research and learning.

To be clear, I’m no technophobe, and for many years have eagerly sought to keep pace with technology that can move the industry and myself forwards. I didn’t laugh at those early robotic lawn mowers, for example, although some who did now must watch goggle-eyed at the industrialised monsters that operate today. Neither did I baulk when battery powered machinery made its way into the tool shed with the intention of eradicating their air polluting forebears; after all, I’d spent far too many years with my nose just a few inches from obnoxious two-stroke exhausts.

Well over a year ago I’d say, I was readying myself for this new AI phenomenon, something that might just make our lives that little bit easier. Indeed, there was and remains much positive spin on how AI could answer some of the world’s challenges, and that alone brings hope. What I couldn’t foresee, however, was how quickly AI would spread, nor to what degree it would weave itself to my living world. Naively, I thought that embracing AI would simply be akin to levelling up our favourite search engines.

Now, like many others, and by way of AI searches and questioning, I admit to having dipped my toe in the murky waters, and in all fairness have been pleasantly surprised as to the power of AI and its potential uses. If you’ve tried an AI powered search engine lately, then you’ll know it has definitely levelled up the output on what search engines delivered previously.

Given an accepted degree of usefulness then, the use of AI is sure to grow, with the potential not only to answer questions, but to generate products too, which is where I have to draw my line. You, for whatever reason can draw your line where you choose, but in seeing the potential that AI holds as a tool for trade, I feel that as horticulturalists we could be on stony ground.

By way of an example, here’s one that illustrates how AI crossed my path, and might influence yours:

A client, be they a self-confessed amateur presented me with a winter walled garden cropping plan, produced with an AI app. Now in some ways I’m programmed to applaud their ingenuity as an early adopter of technology, and yes the plan, though simple appeared fairly sound, even it if did miss out on such details like geographical location, orientation, soil composition and micro-climates. The arrival of said plan however did signal to me a significant shift in how working tasks and relationships could be influenced going forward.

No longer will a gardener’s knowledge built over a lifetime of learning and discovery, be automatically respected, or their ability to spend time creating, after self-guided research a plan for this or that. The shift that concerns me here, and one to be mindful of, is how the transfer of knowledge will now move from the qualified professional in the workplace to a remote ‘expert’ source online; a source that won’t just support our work but will plan every last detail for anyone able to type search terms.

It may already have been the case for some employers and for some time, but in due course there will no longer be an automatic need to ask a gardener, when AI, that will only improve, will discuss and demonstrate every aspect of every possible task. Everything from border or whole garden design to cyclical maintenance planning, it can all now be sourced by anyone at any moment.

Just think on that for a while, and I don’t just mean in gardening situations, but in everyday professional situations, where time-served educated and trained individuals are actively employed. Every decision, action and process will increasingly be called into question by a complete amateur who is happy to use AI. Imagine turning up for a day’s work to be given an online generated list of work tasks to attend to.

In less than the time it takes to put the kettle on, the head-sourced responses from people like you and me will increasingly be called into question – until such point that we’re reduced to programmable puppets that just need a willingness to follow a process. For now, we may take solace in knowing that practising gardeners remain employable to attend to the physical tasks, at least until robots can do it on our behalf; but it’s worth remembering that real people once mowed all formal lawns, whereas ever-improving robot mowers often now rule the roost.

Now, it would be easy to cast these words here to the side, and to continue on your own journey of discovery knowing full well that AI is here to stay, and that is your prerogative. Personally, though, I feel so concerned as to the long-term impacts of AI on our industry, that I felt drawn to voice my concerns.

What is for sure, is that given the reported benefits of AI, its environmental impacts and security risks, it IS here to stay, and as a product it is already being widely embraced. Wherever each of us choose to draw our line therefore, there are others who are freely adopting it without concern, and with a total disregard to its impacts on people; whether to save time or money, for their own benefit, or simply to shortcut the route to information and to be more informed.

As a professional gardener, one open to continual learning and development, I do have a genuine concern for where AI is leading us. AI does have its place, and for sure its use offers real progress, but surely it will come at a cost, and I have real concerns as to how its impact, which is fuelled by questionable motives, will impact the people it is rumoured to help.

My toolbox isn’t equipped with an AI stop button unfortunately, and I know that we all will somehow have to keep pace with this careering new world system, but if these words count for anything, at least let them forewarn you of how quickly AI’s adoption might impact our industry. Today, it might simply be a phrase like “I’ll pop it into ChatGPT to see what it suggests”, but tomorrow it could be “we ran the challenge through ChatGPT and here’s exactly what we want from you today”.

The words of John Wooden come to mind, in that “if we fail to adapt, we fail to move forward”, and for sure, under the banner of efficiency I will always be an advocate for education and engagement. However, whilst each of us cannot expect to know it all, and as gardeners we may dance around the houses whilst searching for an answer to an on-the-spot question, it’s important that going forward we’re aware that length of service, knowledge and experience may indeed become undermined; or exchanged for a willingness to learn which is cheaper by the hour.

In other words, we must be clear as we step through the AI arch as to where it might be taking us.

Do you share my concerns or have an experience you’d like to share? Let me know in the comments.

Garden Journal No.15 – To Begin Again

| Gary Webb

The seasonal gardening wheel turns and we prepare to go again.

Today I bring thoughts on summer’s residue and discuss how we can move gardens forward. I’ll also share the latest twists in my own horticultural journey, and speak as to why September may just be the best month of the gardening year.

Welcome to my garden journal, a place where I pause and reflect on my recent gardening ways, and look to the days ahead. Thanks for stopping by.

Firstly

Whilst late September’s gardening pages await their fate, my diary’s inky squiggles from those long hot summer days are fixed and dry. What a paradigm-shifting summer that was.

Every now and then a weather pattern comes along to push and test our limits, often leaving a mark on people and the land itself; summer 2026 was one of those, and will certainly be one to remember. In character, summer was undeniably a wolf in wolf’s clothing, who from the get-go made no attempt to suppress its roar. From a gardening perspective the sun’s aggression seemed relentless, and the forecasters promise for it to return next year is anything but a veiled threat.

If, I consider, you were able to kick back with an iced drink or maybe look out from the shade of an air-conditioned room or a breezy beach, then summer might have delivered some wonderful memories. If your working days were designed to place you out in the heat, however, I trust that you made it through okay, your breaks were long and often, and that your garden fared well. May God bless the trees and their shade!

In all seriousness, whilst temperatures do begin to slide, rain once again seems not far away and all feels well in the garden again, I’d urge us not to forget the summer challenges quite so quickly.

Lawns may be greening, but scars in the earth still run deep, and drought status in some areas will continue through to next year. Be mindful therefore of the opportunity this autumn and winter presents to repair our gardens and to help them become more resilient for the seasons ahead: think trees for shade, water harvesting, drought tolerant ground cover planting and so on. The time is nigh to make a difference!

Note: If you should hear me grumble about said rain in the weeks ahead, do please remind me to shut up!

On a secondary note and from a personal perspective, I do really love September – it’s such a special month for gardens and gardeners alike.

Whiteboards in bothies up and down the land will be full of seasonal tasks, most often packaged as if gardens needed putting to bed. This in many respects is true, but nudging conventional descriptions aside, gardens rarely do fall completely silent, more often they grow a little slower in their own particular way. It may be more fitting then whilst enjoying the fulness and flowers that remain, to think of these coming weeks as the beginning of a gardening year, a time where good foundations can be laid for next year’s garden brilliance.

Let’s not think of this month as the time to sweep away autumn and close the garden down, let’s bask in the glorious colours that are coming our way and enjoy the season we’re in. Importantly, and with another growing year still clear in our rear-view mirrors, let’s prepare well for the year ahead.

How’s that for a dose of autumnal positivity?!

On the work front…

Work for me these days continues, naturally, to be centred on gardening. Whilst it’s good to share, I will however spare you some of the tedious details. Suffice to say that whilst I enjoyed a foray down into the Cotswolds for a month of horticultural happenings, I now continue my gardening ways in Stratford upon Avon with the team across Shakespeare’s gardens.

For sure, whilst my horticultural journey has navigated some twists and turns of late, it’s not been a bad year at all; and the changes could not have come at a better moment. In fact I’ve learned more about myself and my motivations in the past twelve months than in the previous twelve years, and that can’t be a bad thing at all.

I may not have all the answers just yet but my current position suits me just fine, leaving scope and opportunity to explore new avenues, or to discover my true calling you could say.

I’ll keep you posted…

In the Garden

Aside from some light weeding, lawn cutting and a few trips to the allotment, my gardening activity over recent weeks has largely been in my professional capacity.

The Cotswolds venture I mentioned above included some gloriously sunny hours working amongst rare trees with seriously impressive views beyond. Aside from a little summer fruit pruning, the first two weeks were spent establishing annual plans for both production and ornamental gardens, reviewing equipment, sourcing suppliers, building an order for new items, and establishing a priority list of garden projects for the years ahead.

A gardener, Gary Webb, atop some ladders whilst busy trimming some yew topiary.
With onsite trimmers being gummed up and unsharpened, I resorted here to hand trimmers to tighten up the trim – one of three yews.

Along with some obligatory gardening, I delivered much of the above list by the end of week two, thanks in no short measure to the in-house team and some contractor help. By the end of week four however I was happy to move on from the venue, leaving the garden much closer to where it should be for the time of year.

Across each of the gardening ways that I’ve followed whether down in Gloucestershire or back here in leafy Warwickshire, I’ve enjoyed diving into deep borders and running up and down ladders in pursuit of perfection. I’ve not touched a drop of chemical, have lightly trimmed back and tied in some unruly and vicious climbing roses, shaped a good few metres of handsome topiary, and made record offerings to the compost gods; it’s been a busy one you could say.

Naturally I spent much time enjoying the sounds of nature whilst working away, but must admit to having caught up with a few podcasts, which is a great way to feel connected to the gardening world when you’re at work alone. A new podcast to me is Outsiding, with Caitlin Moran and Adam Frost, which has made me chuckle more than once when busy in the garden – I enthusiastically recommend the episode from Aug 20 with Miquita Oliver.

Looking Ahead

Eagle-eyed readers will have realised that I do have a few gaps in my weekly calendar to fill…

Pardon me for the plug, but whilst being ‘comfortable’ with my current days and well rooted here in south Warwickshire, I am somewhat coiled and ready for a new adventure.

In lieu of a CV, I’m into craft-based gardening and take it very seriously. I’m trained in horticulture, garden design and management, and have worked for a few years in a garden and parks consultant capacity, where sustainability and nature friendly gardening is hugely important to me.

Without doubt I’m as creatively motivated behind a desk as with my Niwaki’s in hand, and as demonstrated both through my gardening and writing, being engaged in my work is important. If you’re aware of an opportunity in the south Warwickshire or north Cotswolds area, therefore, I’d appreciate the nod.

Aside from all that busy-busy work-work stuff, I really must get out in the garden, so do accept my thanks and appreciation for reading thus far and supporting my writing and gardening journey. 

Gary Webb. Gardening Ways 🌿

Link to Outsiding Podcast

p.s. No, I wouldn’t be a good fit for Gardeners’ World – I do know that much. Any advances on Frances Tophill, Adam Frost or Arit Anderson, with Chris Beardshaw or Toby Buckland as wild cards?!

Garden Journal No.14 – It’s a bit warm

| Gary Webb

In my garden journal today I write about gardening in this blistering heat, career progress and trains in the garden – yes, I did say trains in the garden!

Welcome to my garden journal, the place where I pause and reflect on my recent gardening journey and look to the days ahead. Thanks for stopping by.

Firstly

“Oh, it’s too warm for me, I mean, I like it warm, but I don’t like it this warm!”

Thanks Mr. Kaye for that one, that line has been on the tip of my tongue for weeks now!

I had been hoping by now that temperatures would have settled down a little, and whilst it has been cloudier and slightly cooler these last few days in south Warks, we’ve had no rain at all worth mentioning. It’s not like we aren’t accustomed to seeing the grass turn blonde each summer and hosepipe bans fall into place, but this ongoing drought should give us cause for concern, not just for gardens but gardeners (and wildlife!) as well.

Whilst some like it hot, it’s been challenging for most outdoors workers having to trudge around in temperatures hovering around 30 degrees centigrade. I’ve found working sessions very tough indeed, and each evening I fall into rehydrate and recuperate mode – when I’m pretty much cooked. I’ve faced all sorts of extreme conditions whilst gardening over the years, but I’ve never felt hostage to the weather like I have these past few weeks, and it’s really giving me concern for the years ahead.

I’ve said before that I don’t like to focus too much on the weather in my writing as it simply comes with the territory. As a horticulturalist I try to understand it as best I can, and to work both with it and around it. At the moment though, the weather’s picked me up by my collar and shook me around on a daily basis, so I could hardly ignore it! 

A yellow hose pipe sprouting water over a plant border
Surprisingly, I haven’t actually done much hose watering…

If you’re a working gardener you’ve probably already worked out your hot weather coping strategy, but nevertheless I feel compelled to remind you to take good care of yourselves out there. Nobody knows your tolerance levels better than you do, so even with the most caring colleagues and supervisors, you still ought to carry out your own mental risk assessment of working situations, then make adjustments if necessary to keep safe from the impacts of the sun and heat.

A few public service pointers for what they’re worth:

– Stay hydrated – obviously… (We can at least thank the World Cup for trying to normalise hydration breaks!)

– Use very high sun protection cream (SPF 50+) and cover up if you can – wide brimmed hats are particularly helpful.

– Negotiate and start your working day much earlier, when it’s cooler.

– Save tasks in the shade for the hottest part of the day.

– Neck fans and micro-fibre cooling towels draped around the neck work for some – explore these options if you can to see what works for you.

I’ll leave it there, for now, but if you have any other cool tips do let me know.

Showtime

Before moving on to write On the Work Front, I must record a little gardening highlight that occurred recently.

My attention was called in June to a request from the Greenfingers charity for volunteers to help with a show garden build at BBC Gardeners’ World Live. Long story short, I sent the enquiry email before I had time to talk myself out of it, and a few days later found myself mucking in at Birmingham’s NEC with the ‘Trains in the Garden’ show garden.

You might well have seen the garden and its creators Andy and Louise Christie on Gardener’s World that week, where their build up to the show was covered in some detail. (iPlayer link below). It was a complex but carefully engineered design that included a working scaled-down steam railway that visitors could engage with via remote control. Intermingled with the rails were full sized railway collectibles from yesteryear, and an eclectic mix of planting with an inspired use of wildflower turf.

I managed to contribute three days to the build in all, a mere hop and skip compared to the months of preparation and more than a week of on-site build up by numerous volunteers. The experience was incredible I have to say, not just helping with the build but having the opportunity to see many other gardens during their construction phases too – I learned a great deal from the experience.

I won’t dwell a moment longer but would say that should a similar opportunity come your way then do go for it. It was incredibly hard work but very entertaining and educational, and I’m glad to report that the garden achieved a gold award! My thanks go to Andy and Louise, and to the people at Greenfingers for bringing it all together and making me feel so welcome.

Gary Webb in a hi-vis vest posed in front of plant racks at BBC Gardeners' World Live
Just me sorting through plants for the show garden…

On the work front…

Last time I wrote for my garden journal I was about to leave a major working role and signed off saying ‘let’s see where I pop up’. Well, I’ve surfaced not too far away at a local charitable organisation who hold responsibility for a few venues linked to a certain Will Shakespeare – his name might ring a bell?!

Though simple in its form my gardening role there is diverse indeed, and a few weeks in I’ve already got to know the gardens at Shakespeare’s Birthplace, New Place and Anne Hathaway’s Cottage very well. I’m on a reduced week due to present capacity within the team, so really can’t be sure how long the role can sustain me or vice versa, but nevertheless I’ve been warmly welcomed into the garden team who are very focussed and enthusiastic.

Ellen Willmott borders at Anne Hathaway’s Cottage, with pink poppies and foxgloves, and the thatched cottage to the rear.
Ellen Willmott borders at Anne Hathaway’s Cottage

As for my own input on this particular work front, well I’ve simply turned up and delivered what has been asked of me. Weeding and tidying, planting, pruning and presenting the gardens, indeed anything that’s needed doing; and it’s been a real breath of fresh air. My personal shift in working ways has clearly been substantial, and if you’ve followed my journey these past twelve months, then I’m sure you’ll see that horticulture is central to my existence. Just try and tell me that gardening isn’t a great healer!

In the Garden

At home I’ve been busy pottering away, but aside from watering duties have tried to stay out of the sun – I get more than enough of that at work just now. At home due to the drought the ground is concrete-like and dust dry, and has been for weeks. 

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Just before the rain dried up however I did move to amalgamate three small beds in the middle of my front garden. Making a larger bed was for two reasons: firstly to increase both interest and biodiversity, and secondly to lose a little more lawn. There is also a thirdly, in that I had a small collection of plants that desperately needed to go into the ground, and so in they went.

Naturally I took time to improve the soil before planting and dug in a couple of barrow loads of well-rotted manure, and after planting and watering I mulched the entire bed with shredded bark to lock some moisture in. I kind of knew that it would likely be the last chance to work the ground before summer did its thing, and at this stage can report that all the plants are doing well, although they have been given a good drink every three to four days.

An image of an allotment in high summer, with rows of plants and a glasshouse in the distance.
Allotment of Potential – some wins, some losses, it’s all good…

In terms of the allotment, I choose not to dwell… Let me just say that we’ve made a good effort to welcome wildlife to our family plot, although not all fauna it turns out is conducive to the growing of produce. 

We were overjoyed to find newts had moved into our wildlife pond with the frogs this year, and love seeing the blackbirds and goldfinches forage, the solitary bees, damselflies and lady birds too. But honestly, the rabbits, fox, flea beetles, cabbage white caterpillars and moles; well they can genuinely do one! I’m not even going to mention the rust on my broad beans or the ridiculously poor root crop again… Don’t worry, I’m already making plans for next year – I’m not going to be beaten that easily!

Looking Ahead

I’ll admit that although my garden journals are few and far between, I have generally written less this summer due to changes to my normal run of days. I sincerely hope this garden journal entry marks a return to my gardening and writing ways, where my words need to blossom once again.

Work, in all fairness, still has some settling down to do as I mentioned above, but I have to say that I’m riding high on positivity just now, with a feeling that something special is just around the corner. Let’s see what turns up with tomorrow’s full Buck Moon, shall we?!

On those moonlit notes I’ll sign off for now and bid you well until next time, do go steady on that watering and be sure to take care in the sun!

Gary Webb. Gardening Ways.

iPlayer link to BBC Gardeners’ World Live TV Episode

Garden Journal (No.13) – ‘Restructuring’

| Gary Webb

Today I write about rebooting and restructuring my gardening life, I’m literally going to turn my work off and on again – things might get interesting!

This post was created in April, but not posted to my WordPress page due to reappraising my posting regime. Apologies for the break in service – hopefully normal service will now be resumed! (I have adjusted the text so it’s relevant to the here and now).

Welcome to my garden journal, the place where I pause to consider my gardening journey and look to the days ahead.

Firstly

Well, I’m back again with spring in my step and an update on my garden journal. We seem to have had a good run of useful and useable days of late, but haven’t we had a florally brilliant spring?!

We’ve had some radiant blossom-filled days, flowering cherry trees doing their thing over masses of spring flowering bulbs, and as I write after the tulips have come and gone, the alliums are taking their turn here there and everywhere. Days have finally stretched out so evenings can be put to good use, whether pottering out in the garden, a short but sweet visit to the allotment, or simply getting outside for fresh air and inspiration. Oh, and how could I forget; with the lifting temperatures I can once again sit back and write in the cool comfort of my garden hut…Happy days are here again!

A close up view through a tray full of seedlings, their stalks rising tall from tiny compost plugs and their nail sized eaves overhead
New season plugs awaiting their pots… All now potted on and racing away!

On the work front…

Crikey, there’s so much I could say on the work front this time, but being both level-headed and sensitive, I will choose to keep my cards close to my chest – mostly.

Being open though I can admit to having quite the time of it since my last journal entry, with a working role that I accepted on a trial basis having not turned out as anticipated, shall we say. Now, as most will know I’m a resourceful chap, but having carried myself through a redundancy programme that started early in July last year, and having stepped into a trial role in February, even I came to realise in the end that enough was enough.

Organisational restructuring can be a brutal process, both for those on the list and for those who ‘survive’; there’s no hiding away from that. It must also be said that navigating such choppy waters can also, for some, turn out to be the making of them. For me, having always focussed on the saying that a door opens for a reason, I took an opportunity as if it were meant to be, at least that is, until I figured out that it was definitely not meant to be, at least not for me right now.

To summarise my last few weeks then, I’d simply say that whilst I could have sucked it up and kept my head down, I’m wise enough to realise that ‘plodding onward’ was neither healthy nor the way I wanted to exist; and it certainly wasn’t going to keep me in the best frame of mind to support the brilliant gardeners and gardens. If you can’t bring your A-game to such a role, the role will eat you up, and I’ve witnessed this personally.

In early May therefore, I handed back my trusty Head Gardener’s badge, and with a lump in my throat walked out into a new spring relieved in some way from the heaviness that redundancy brings. Yes, this still leaves me at a career drop-off point, but I’m loaded with ability and optimism, and a mindset that all this is happening for a reason, that in time will become apparent.

All being well, and maybe once I’ve had a day or two to think clearly (and get the allotment straight), I shall be guided by my angels and the stars above to re-emerge in pastures new, where my experience, creativity and dedication to the cause can be seen and put to good use. Oh, and to those brilliant people and places I will soon leave behind, surely it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all…?

Let’s see where I pop up, eh!

In the Garden

After all that heaviness, it’s time to focus on a new year ahead that’s already treating us to some wonderful gardening weather. I probably say it every year but isn’t a sunny spring day just the absolute best?! Every year as we crest the spring equinox, from the first celandines and violets through daffodils, tulips, fritillaries and more, I go about my days like a proverbial kid in a sweet shop; I just can’t have too much garden time!

As seen frequently on my Instagram, I was blessed since early spring with that opportunity to work across three wonderful gardens. Whilst much time has been spent doing management tasks, I did manage a few days in my greens and safety boots; vitally important days for a real head gardener to breathe and connect. To therefore have seen each garden drift from being chilly, overcast and somewhat damp around the edges, through to being dust dry and bathed in summertime heat, well, it’s been an absolute delight. Thankfully though as I update this post, some rain has returned to quench each garden’s thirst.

A lawn mower parked on the edge of a large lawn freshly mown, with topiary shrubs and Charlecote's Elizabethan gatehouse.
Only the second cut of the year, and a team effort, but good to level the lawns at long last…

When at work, I chipped-in with the annual potting up of parterre bedding plug plants at Charlecote and even dropped onto some mowing and mole damage repair on a games lawn. Whilst at home, aside from a slow-ahead approach to cutting back perennials plus some tying in and training, my largest task was been getting a new bed underway; a switch from lawn area to wildlife friendly planting. Oh yes, I did finally get my vegetable seeds sown into modules for the allotment.

I must also mention the containerised bulbs that worked well for me at home, most performing brilliantly in a range of pots placed around the garden. Apart from a few poor-quality bulbs that didn’t make it through, the rest were so worth the wait, but I guess that’ll teach me for buying some extras in the sales too late in the year!

Tulip ‘Purple Pride’ and Hyacinth ‘Woodstock’; flowering pink coloured bulbs in a container in a garden setting
Tulip ‘Purple Pride’ and Hyacinth ‘Woodstock’, a lovely pair if I do say so myself…

Looking Ahead

As I update this post I am now of course living through days post redundancy, and preparing myself for new working days ahead – all TBC. In the days ahead therefore, whilst trying to not get side tracked by the busyness of May, I’ll be endeavouring to go slowly so as not to let the wonder of the season pass me by. To those ends therefore, I look ahead to the summer season with both an open mind as to where my next chapter shall begin; wish me luck!

On that note I’ll sign off for now and bid you well for the rest of spring.

Kindest regards, Gary. Gardening Ways.

The answer was in the garden all along

| Gary Webb

I knew something was wrong but it was the garden, as often the way, that helped me figure it out…

Upright, resolute and with its happiest face ablaze in the morning sun, my whippersnapper white flowering cherry tree shivers outside in a fresh spring morning breeze. Two blue tits are skipping amongst the twiggy birch tree branches, daisies are acting all daisy-like across the lawn and lavender cushions are covered in new season growth, yet something feels amiss.

White cherry blossom flowers washed in early morning sunlight
Cherry blossom doing its thing in my garden…

Tight bright pink ‘Jan Bos’ Hyacinth blooms are emerging from a terracotta pot newly planted last autumn. A chest high Acer is bravely pushing its first claw-like leaves out into the world, and along the fence line bright green ‘Mrs Robb’s bonnet’ Euphorbia stems stretch knee high to the sky as if to say, “don’t forget us!” The borders are clearly beginning to fill out right now but still, something is not quite right.

Continuing to study and quiz the garden, I tune into some long thorny rose stems that were tied down so very carefully back in February, where eight-inch new shoots now stretch upwards all along the stems – just as planned. Then my eyes pause on two box topiary shrubs that have rested tightly in their pots all winter, now whiskered with bright green tiny new leaves. Taking it all in, it is clear that the garden, following the longest wettest winter is now growing strongly again, but still, something is out of sorts.

Then it strikes me, it is this of course, not the garden but my writing that is out of line, where after an extended break I am once again deep in thought before a page, with a willingness to write. I haven’t stopped writing completely of though, if keeping a personal journal counts that is, but publicly my garden and nature inspired articles ceased to exist as we approached the end of winter. So why have the words from this Gary-made-good disappeared and what brings me back here today?

Well, until recently I would write each morning and almost every single day. I’d jot things down in notebooks or on my phone whilst out and about, and given a good chunk of time would hide myself away and type feverishly once a hint of an article had formed in my head. Then and without fail, I’d lose myself in a washing drum cycle of editing and re-editing whilst working to polish my creation into something half decent, before hitting the publish button and sending out into my tiny world.

For some time though my daily writing sessions have dried up, along with my articles too. It’s not for me to get into it here but suffice to say that life has weighed heavy for a while now, suppressing my motivation for gardening let alone writing; which is not me at all. My pens have collected dust in their pot, my laptop has been mostly closed and my creativity put on hold. Daily work has continued of course, but in no small measure have I been called to question again and again my working ways and gardening in general, so with all this in mind I’ve not had the will to write.

As I sit here today though whilst pondering my predicament, sun washes over the garden I previously described and the room inside is half in chaos. Furniture is piled high, dust sheets are laid down, and a half empty paint tin awaits re-opening so to coat another living room wall. A while later I’ll be taking one of my lads to the football through the Saturday traffic, and later still I will visit my dad in hospital; but right now and for the first time in weeks, I’m called to write.

Indeed, having fallen into a groove where I would do almost anything but make time to write, I now find myself sitting here with words bursting to get on the page. Things may be on pause for a little while and for sure, life is waiting to pull me hither and dither, but in this moment, I block it all out and write. 

Today then and for a while at least I shall roll with it, let the words flow, and go with that pull of creative energy that I know is life sustaining for me. It is not just the gardening, but the capturing of it in words that matters to me this day, and I must not hold that back come rain or shine or decorating for that matter. (Especially not for the decorating!) 

The garden will carry on being the garden, doing garden-like things, and work will carry on challenging me as it has for ever and a day. Little old me in the centre of it all however will sit here and write, come what may. Thank you for reading to the end, you’re one of my stars!

Gary Webb – Gardener, and yes: writer, dad, son and decorator too. (Whether some folks like it or not!)

When Clouds Dull The Day

| Gary Webb

Well, these first few weeks of the year certainly haven’t done anything to water down the notion that our nation is rain-soaked and dreary. I mean, yet again during daytime hours I find myself writing whilst knowing that I really should put the big light on! Nevertheless, as gloomy and wretched as the weather has been yet again today, beyond the large windowpanes all is brilliantly bathed by the sun’s light; even if filtered by a wishy-washy veil of grey cloud.

As I look out, raindrops cause tiny splashes as they spit spot across paving stones, with yet more droplets tapping lightly on the doorsill. Nearby and across a shallow pool surface silvery rings quickly erase each one that came before, and sky-lit watery beads build beneath branches, readying themselves to free fall into saturated soil below. Everything shows signs of moisture in a garden that’s already full to the brim.

Undeterred by the murk, fascination is still to be found everywhere out there however, my view being into a gardener’s garden of course. Mind you,

Continue reading →

Garden Journal (No.12) – Outside Influence

| Gary Webb

Welcome to my garden journal, the place where I pause to consider my current gardening journey and look to the days ahead.

Firstly

It’s great to be back journaling again though it does seem an age since the last one, even though it was only December. I’m also delighted to confirm that this entry marks the journal’s first full year, so I’m giving myself an imaginary pat on the back as I write.

Mulling over how to celebrate my journalling accomplishment, I thought I’d remind myself of those traditional anniversary markers, and it appears that one year can be honoured with a paper gift. Paper of course plays to my writerly ideals, so now I have the perfect excuse to purchase yet another notebook. Like plants, there’s always room for another notebook!

Anyway, before I veer too far off the garden path….

On the work front…

Believe me, there’s a lot I could say on the work front, but whilst I’m in the midst of planning for the next leg of my horticultural journey, I will take this opportunity to pause just one last time to remember the most recent past. Last weekend, you see, saw the completion of four particularly valuable years working in my garden and parks consultancy role, so I could hardly sign off without a brief moment of reflection.

The G&PC role was always going to present a steep learning curve for yours truly, and though objectives were generally pretty clear, existing in the space was far from straight forward. Often it felt as if I was working in the shadows, but nonetheless it was a fascinating role and hugely rewarding, having influence of sorts over some very fine parks and gardens. Indeed, what might have begun as a simple attempt to broaden my horticultural experience, grew to be so much more.

Throughout the years, many audiobook listening miles were travelled, all balanced of course with some long hours living inside a laptop. Meetings were enjoyed and endured in some wonderfully historic attics, basements and ballrooms, although the best of them were always those hosted in gardens themselves, where lunches were often consumed amongst veteran trees, with tuneful birds and butterflies.

Sometimes the coffee hits the right spot… 100%

I’ve sipped from mugs of steaming black coffee in some of the most memorable and forgotten garden bothies ever there was, and stomped miles across parklands in cross-discipline teams discussing everything from ancient archaeology to arboriculture. There was even the odd time here or there working on the tools planting bulbs, or collecting debris after yet another flood, plus numerous round-table discussions with colleagues strategising over one garden initiative or another.

That last line brings me swiftly onto the folks I’ve worked with throughout, those who teased, tested and tried me, but equally brought out the best of me; ‘my’ gardeners, colleagues and friends. If reading this, you’ll know who you are, and should also know how much I’ve valued your counsel these last four years, I couldn’t have done it without you!

It’s been an absolute gift to have worked with some of the most resilient and talented gardeners going, who collectively turn out some of the most evocative garden spaces on the planet. Having witnessed their intellect and creativity, their tenacity and commitment, and for seeing what they’ve achieved in the tightest of situations; I have nothing but admiration for them all.

This section of my journal is therefore to record my thanks to you all, it’s been one heck of a ride. Next time the coffee is on me!

In the Garden

I’m devoting little time to my home garden and allotment section this time due to my own gardening activity being somewhat in short supply. That is not to say that I haven’t been interacting with gardens; I’ve needed plenty of garden face time in order to get me through some trying winter weeks.

Whilst reduced gardening activity is pretty standard at this time of year for non-professionals though, the turbulent weather certainly hasn’t helped in terms of motivation. Sunny days have been swiftly followed by rain, the local River Avon has gone up and down like a yoyo, and frost has touched down one day and vanished the next.

Close up image of a fern plant, the edges of its fronds touched by frost
I’ll just let you lose yourself in these leaves for a moment…

Frosty days, despite testing our metal, do however offer a visual treat only snow can improve upon. During winter’s lull when, let’s face it, many gardens are less than attractive, a dusting of frost can be magical. In my garden even commonplace fence and post tops can sparkle, which combined with a range of silvery leaves makes for a budget winter wonderland; it’s only my establishing ‘Spider’s Web’ Fatsia that complains by drooping sorrowfully – it’s always first to feel the chill.

Seeing frost up close often reminds me of my mom’s words way back in my primary school days. ‘Jack Frost’s been’ she would say, which I now realise was intended to build excitement and enthusiasm for yet another icy cold walk to school. (Luckily, I always had my Readybrek glow!)(Google it…)

Today, after many full snow moons have passed I still get a sense of excitement at the sight of a glistening garden, and Jack’s always quick to jump into my mind. I lose myself ever so easily at the sight of a crispy white lawn, some mondo grass blades or the lattice-like fronds of an evergreen fern. Thanks mom, I guess I’m saying; I do believe you’re the one who first opened my eyes to the infinite beauty of nature – your gift keeps on giving to this day.

Just a light touch from Jack Frost today…

The influence of ice crystals in the garden can of course fill it with beauty, moving the most ordinary element to an art piece, yet for wildlife, it can be a different story. It’s important then, when delighting in a few frozen moments to give a thought or two to our feathered friends.

Already in my garden we have blue tits fighting over the nest box, making our efforts to keep fresh water and some seed available through winter worthwhile. If only for the tits, a blackbird, a couple of robins and pigeons, our small offering goes a long way to keeping our local birds alive and singing. (Note: Occasionally, between refreshing bird food it’s good to disinfect items, so as to reduce the risk of spreading disease).

Looking Ahead

In the days ahead I do have to acquire seeds for the season including potatoes for chitting, and there’s a pruning session to look forward to; an establishing Wisteria in one corner of the garden in particular. I’m quite looking forward to giving my pruners a run out to be honest, and might even roll onto the roses afterwards for good measure.

Aside from the pruning, for the foreseeable future in my home plots at least, I’m happy to continue edging quietly closer to spring. Imbolc arrived with the beginning of February, the Celtic festival which amongst other things signals the mid-point between the winter solstice and spring equinox. To that end, whether you follow the Celtic fire festivals or not, we can be reassured that brighter days are ahead.

My final words for this garden journal are therefore to recommend that we all find a few quiet moments to spend in our own garden spaces, so to think for a while on the type of year you’d like to experience. Might I also suggest some gardening intentions: A training course? A new container display? A new tree? A new garden?!

Whatever you decide upon, write it down on a post-it note and stick it somewhere prominent, as that way you’re more likely to make it happen.

On that note, I’ll sign out of my garden journal number twelve and wish you well for Imbolc and beyond. Spring is on the way!

All the best, Gary. Gardening Ways.

January Garden

| Gary Webb

Possibly the grimmest day of the year so far, but somehow my garden pulls me through, giving much food for thought in the process. Potpourri, anyone?

In my neck of the woods most gardens would be considered ‘damp under foot’ for the duration of January. Unless you’re a professional or serious amateur gardener though, there’s probably not a great deal you’d want to do in the garden just now anyway. After all, January soil can be wet soil, I don’t want to play soil, stay away soil. It’s probably better to let the January garden be, if I’m totally honest.

Birch and Viburnum leaves amongst others cloak much of my own garden soil today having layered themselves down like sodden potpourri. Initially having tumbled down, they’re now compressing after recurring rainfall, sealing the soil and locking out light, thus preventing growth of too many wild plants.

A mixture of brown leaves laying soaked on the ground, their ribbed and textured form still clearly visible in January.
All the leaves are brown…and the sky is… 

In the right quantity wild plants have always been dear to me, and decade upon decade my gardens have become more welcoming to their presence, softer around the edges you could say. Musing on wildflowers and gardens, I remember when wildflowers were once allotted a specific space in gardens, but now see further softening to their presence. Gardens now seem to be shape shifting, re-forming tradition through a shared desire to heal the world and help our pollinators; a kind of No Dig for Victory, I hear people say.

Where this will lead gardens I cannot say, as I’m unable to read a crystal ball, but a creative gardener’s desire to shape and improve will certainly see each place adapt and evolve. Not that a ‘traditional’ garden fixed in an old form is a bad thing, whatever a traditional garden is, that is. There’s certainly room for a heady mix of traditional and wild, old and new, as long as they’re nature rich gardens. As Alexander Pope once penned: “In all, let Nature never be forgot”.

Tripping over the labels we attach to gardens and gardening styles sometimes leads to words wasted, I feel, but questioning what a garden is can be fruitless too; a garden being something different to each and every person. USP’s aside, each garden is an intrinsically personal space to someone, even if it’s a shared space, so various opinions will exist as to how it should be formed or re-formed; and most will be just fine as long as nature’s requirements are considered.

In my own January garden, a diverse range of carefully chosen ornamental plants hold their stations, each either having gone to ground or is presently delighting me with some winter form and colour. Again though, labelling plants themselves as ‘ornamentals’ undervalues their role in the place that is my garden, a space where all the plants are fulfilling an important role in the local eco system. Yes, they’re aesthetically pleasing, but they’re useful in other ways too, be it for food or refuge.

Not especially useful to some people, as gardens go, my garden is completely useful to me, and to local wildlife. In the drier, warmer months my garden gives space to breathe and retire from the world, offering various niches where to relax and unwind. Right now, even though I fear to tread into it on the dullest of winter days, my garden entertains. Perimeter planting waves in the wind, cloud pruned box reminds me where I’ve been, and raindrops animate a mirror pool. Yet it is the plants, regardless of their origin, that stand up to the grey day, offering life and foraging places for wildlife.

Whilst I ponder January and observe the seasonal wheel as it turns, rain continues to fall across my garden. It may not be an easy time for all natural things, or for gardeners come to that, but for this gardener on the grimmest of days, my garden’s seeing me right. I believe it’s time for a winter brew.

Gary Webb.