Horticulture

Garden Journal (No.11) – New Gardening Ways

| Gary Webb

With ten garden journal posts now published this year, I hereby give notice, that just for this entry I’m having a little shake up – think of it as a snow globe edition if you will. In here my usual journal sections have temporarily disappeared in a miniature blizzard and are lost amidst swirling bright white flakes.

Instead, what comes into focus as the fake snow slows is an update on my gardening reality; a wintry tale of working that is not weathering well just now. For this post only, I’m aiming to summarise this year’s lengthy journey, one I can no longer process properly with pursed lips. These words are not angry words however, they’re therapeutic ones, chosen to help me both process what is done, and move forward with calmness and clarity.

Note: The text below radiates from my present core role in the charity sector as a gardens and parks consultant, which follows decades working in landscape and garden management. I also wish to confirm that I write here in a personal capacity: these words do not represent the views of any other individual or organisation.

On the work front…

I’ve previously alluded to a work issue that’s been ongoing since early July. The situation has been frustrating and trying to say the least and believe me those are two of the kindest words I could use. Essentially, as for many organisations and businesses just now, the cloud of redundancy came over, putting many hard-working folks under a great deal of stress.

Now that winter’s under way, I’m in a position to look back and process the journey so far, and it helps me to think of it as thus: for a while there, we were effectively walking the narrowest of cliffside walks. For sure, appeals could be submitted to the powers that be, which at least gave hope that valuable people might somehow be saved from slipping into the foggy void below, but the way ahead for all was not clear cut.

For a lucky few of us, an added hint of optimism occurred when brand-new roles came into sight. Yes, new spaces were actually made on a sustainably sourced bench up on a higher ledge. That path to the plateau though was steep and twisted, and the risk of falling ever present, but once up there, if the weather cleared, that view would surely be magnificent.

Individually we dared to climb, and a couple of worthy adventurers even made it up onto that grassy ledge, and internally I rejoiced that two of my kind, at least, had reached safety. For the rest of us though, ill equipped it seemed for the challenge, one by one we were forced to turn about and shuffle back down the path; whilst contemplating still empty spaces up there on the bench. Some things are just not meant to be.

After our trial, that narrow path crumbled and fell away behind us, almost as if it was never there at all. With wide open eyes though, I could at least take solace in finally having received a date for the whole sorry affair to conclude – February 2026. Mind you, whilst a few of us had given it a shot, there were a few others who, ahead of time, had chosen to float into the voluntary redundancy mist. After so many previous meetings and garden tours, not to hug being able to properly wish them farewell was a wrench indeed.

A black and white image of a Webb mower in a garden setting
Fossil fuel free mowers with no charging or battery concerns…

Thankfully, I’m now back on firmer ground and a normal (ish) service has resumed, albeit with one eye on a distant horizon. Without digging into the whys and wherefores a moment longer however, and a few sleepless nights aside, I can say that I am genuinely at peace with it all. For sure, having one’s career train suddenly derailed at my time of life does leave one in quite a hole, but I’m adept with a sharp-edged spade and a PC, so I think I’ll be okay.

If there’s one thing that puzzles me, it is how I’ve managed to remain so composed throughout it all, but then, with a family to support, maybe the brave face I’m sporting for my kids has somehow stuck. Whatever it is, now is the time to draw a line in the sand, and this journal entry most definitely marks that line. I now need to be looking ahead, exploring new paths and stepping through new doorways. Your destiny awaits; is a line that keeps running through my mind.

Being practical, for the next couple of months I am very much committed to my present role, but beyond that, well, I shall be up for grabs. In this moment therefore, I guess I need to advertise my wares, to put myself out there as it were.

I’m quite a versatile and practical person, but as you’ll by now realise, I’m also something of a reflector, a character trait not given the time of day in most meetings, discussions, or even interviews come to that. Nevertheless, whilst I can tend to dwell sometimes, it does lead to considered decisions with positive outcomes.

It’s taken me far too many years to work it out, but I’m very much a creative, one that dares to dream. My qualities may not be unique and as an individual I might be hard to figure out, but my ability to dream and aspirational approach to life has served me well in horticulture across the years. After all, no one can manifest a finely considered paradise garden if they can’t dream it from within, surely?

The bottom line though, is that whilst it’s fine to be something of a niche horticulturalist with a book dream, I do have bills to pay. In my mind’s eye, an opportunity like redundancy is a chance to step back, to reconsider and possibly to retrain. On the shelf, however, is a little Christmas elf who annoyingly prods and pokes at me daily, his speech bubbles saying, “just get another job, and quickly!”

To these ends, I’m a creative horticulturalist, or gardener if that’s easier to grasp; a hardworking, loyal, nature focussed family guy, deeply rooted in south Warwickshire. I have all the usual tickets, sharp pruners, and have improved and made more than a few gardens over the years. Oh, and whilst I’m particularly fond of heritage gardens, I do have a very broad field of vision.

At this point I’m at risk of falling into C.V. territory, so I shall check myself and call time on this somewhat unconventional garden journal entry now. I gave this post much thought I can tell you, and apologies if it’s a shock to the system, but the best way for me to navigate this process is by writing my way through it.

There are many more challenging things in life to deal with, I realise, and my intention was never to harp on, or cause upset. My horticultural journey has been forty years in the growing though, so you’ll have to excuse me if this comes across a little snappy; this is challenging stuff, whether people depend on you or you depend on yourself.

To conclude therefore, whilst my diary is full for the foreseeable, in the near future I shall myself be released into that foggy void, and I’m very much open to all avenues. My pruners, as ever, are as sharp as my pencils, and my topiary trimming is just as tuneful as my keyboard tapping. I’ve managed teams here and there, for sure, but I’m also completely at peace in splendid isolation; and many would be surprised by my garden design skills – old school but effective!

Thanks for reading to the end, should you hear of anything within range of south Warks, I’d be very much obliged if you would tip me the wink.

Until next time then, when my garden journal will return to its usual format, I bid you good day.

Kind regards, Gary Webb, Gardening Ways.

Old Spades, New Gardening Ways

| Gary Webb

This article is a reflection on the shifting nature of gardening and considers how old methods like double digging fit into modern, sustainable practice.

I’m sure this could be applied to many activities, but if there’s one thing I’ve come to understand about gardening, it is that nothing stays the same for long: places, processes, people and of course plants themselves continue to change. There are many examples of how change plays out in life of course, but the one I pull from my gardening hat today concerns an old gardening task known as double digging.

Whilst in practice double digging wasn’t expected or carried out nearly as often as one might think, by the time I encountered the technique it was long established; a trusted method for preparing compacted or depleted ground. Whether working an allotment or old kitchen garden therefore, digging down two spits deep, incorporating organic matter and inverting the soil was considered a route to success.

Possibly due to my working situations, I didn’t often get to put my double digging skills to use, but I certainly held faith in the procedure. After all, like it or loathe it, the DD process adds nutrients and humus, opens and aerates compacted soil, and helps towards that happy place somewhere between not too wet or dry – what more could anyone possibly do to help plants grow?

A black and white image of Gary Webb weeding a patch of soil beside a compost bin.
My good self, not in the act of double digging! (Not there anyway 😉)

The idea behind this text however, is not to deliberate on whether double digging or no dig is best, or if any gardening method is superior to another. My reflections here are wholly centred around the evolution of horticultural practice, of collective and individual learning, and of thoughtfully managing change.

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Pressing Pause in the Garden

| Gary Webb

During these midwinter weeks here in the UK, the accepted norm is not to head out mowing the lawn each week; indeed trimming, weeding or feeding the garden generally takes a backseat. Contrary to popular belief though, during these colder months gardeners don’t stash away their tools, kick back in the shed whilst drinking hot chocolate and peruse seed catalogues. In fact, for many skilled and professional horticulturalists, easing back isn’t even up for discussion.

Tending larger or public gardens and green spaces does call for year-round activity, and thousands of trained ‘horts’ are directly employed in positions across the country, not to mention thousands more who work in supporting trades feeding into a vibrant plant-based industry. On the ground though,

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Like Gardens Do

| Gary Webb

A comfortable though long journey ended when I opened the car door into a sodden overhanging conifer; it wasn’t the only time I’d get wet that afternoon. Rain was set in for the day, and would only pause occasionally to catch its breath. For the first time in months I was back in my raincoat, with my faded gardening hat ready for action too.

The garden with its new gardener was the focus for the afternoon, and aside from a decorator darting swiftly in paint splashed dungarees from van to the house and back, all that could be heard was the rain. Water poured from the heavy sky glossing over the old flagstones paving the Manor House front, and streamed from the old lead downpipes into mossy drains. We decided to start the afternoon with some steaming black coffee in the gardener’s kitchen.

Chatting whilst watching the weather through an open door, all that we could see was an enclosed courtyard, but in no time at all the raising light level lifted our spirits. We moved out swiftly and through the arch into the damp grey garden, crunching across the gravelly drive towards an area in need of a plan.

On the way we perused empty borders, and some packed full of wet perennials just going over, then made footprints through sodden grass as we moved towards the once glorious garden. Pausing before shallow steps up

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Autumn Is…

| Gary Webb

As if by magic we find ourselves in autumn again and preparing for the inevitable changes that come to challenge our seasonal preferences. Some feel the loss of a memory-filled summer deeply, disliking the inevitable tumble towards chilly days and long dark nights, whilst some, me included, don’t begrudge the tumbledown season at all, in fact quite the opposite.

I feel the natural landscape craves the autumnal change like dry oars need water, or thirsty bees need nectar. Indeed if plants could talk, I’d imagine them right now whispering wearily of how they’re needing this slower more restful time, after their long and somewhat arduous season of growth. This year alone they’ll invariably have seen off extreme temperatures, drought, flooding and attacks from predators, so surely they’re due for some rest and recuperation. In many ways I’m attuned to their situation, feeling mindfully at one with gardens and the great outdoors, although despite ambition, I doubt if paid ‘hibernation leave’ will ever come to be.

Spring and summer seasons for me, as for many folk in the horticultural world will often have been long and challenging after negotiating the fastest growth periods, new season or ongoing projects, and numerous progress checking delays – holidays included. Last year for example in 2022, drought impacted so many places and

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Writing from my happy place.

| Gary Webb

Thanks for clicking on the link to ‘Writing from my happy place’. It’s been a while since I was last here with you, but I’m delighted to be back, and so glad you’ve joined me.

As said I haven’t blogged for a while because I’ve sort of been away with the garden faeries; I’d have mentioned this sooner was it not for the fear of judgement, or people losing faith in me. But here I am once again, back in the blogosphere and speaking openly – for better or for worse.

Whilst moving through the last few years it is fair to say that I’ve experienced a good deal of change, most notably in my working days, and gardening ways. I’m certainly not alone, as many others have experienced similar too, leading lots of people to reflect more, to refocus, and re-evaluate their situations – my head has been in that space too.

Many have held steady career courses and weathered these turbulent times with confidence, but many have not, and have looked for positive change in new situations. As you probably know, I sought change, and whilst my endeavours barely got out of second gear, I do believe that every step of the way made a lasting and positive difference – not only to each place, I trust, but to me personally. I certainly churned a lot of compost over the last few years!

On reflection though, I’m coming to realise that the last few years have been somewhat experimental for me, where subconsciously I might have simply needed a new focus. If only I’d figured this out sooner I may not have frustrated those around me, or those further afield who watched on in bewilderment.

Experimental or not, those years have certainly been engaging, and pretty taxing too, and I’ve met some fabulous people and spent time in the most incredible places – Indeed I’ve been very fortunate. It has though become harder in recent months to continue blogging with as much freedom as before, and my Gardening Ways posts have dwindled.

At this point though, having found a little more stability in my working days, I’ve started questioning what to do with my blog. Should I develop and adapt the posts, if so how? Shall I shift focus to allotment gardening, or pick up on my garden and parks consultancy work somehow? Or, has the blog run its course, and is it time to call it a day? Your thoughts are of course welcome.

It might not seem like a big issue to some, but I’ve poured an awful lot of time into this blog over the years. It’s frustrating then, that I’ve struggled to deal with not blogging so often over the last few months, but I can reassure that my work with Gardening Ways is not done yet.

The turning point, if it was one, was a week or so ago when a proverbial apple fell out of the tree, and I realised something fundamental to this whole blogging dilemma. I’ve therefore made time to produce this very different post, both to record the point where my blogging world pivots, and reason why. Apologies if you were expecting pretty floral pictures by the way…maybe next time!

Firstly, my shift this year from working in frontline horticulture to consulting has meant that I now physically experience far fewer melancholic sunrises or soul nourishing sunsets. I enjoyed no professional propagating for borders or plant sales in spring, and there were no topiary shapes to clip in summer. Next week, there will be no ‘work’ pumpkins to carve or bird feeders to make for events, and my annual mowing mileage has literally dropped off the chart! I’ve practically switched from garden deliverer, to garden influencer you could say.

To those ends, it would seem that the daily free delivery of experiences, or fuel that I previously used to stoke my creative blogging furnace, disappeared overnight in January. That sudden perceived loss of fuel led to my heavily preened garden Journal posts fading away like dying coals in the grate, and that’s caused some feeling of frustration.

Secondly, I have on the whole considered Gardening Ways to be a blogging venture only, somewhere to post much loved images and support them with text, and not anything more. I’d be the first to say that it was never a writing voyage, at least not in the traditional sense, it was a place to record, to relate, and to be present; and I needed it for some reason.

I will admit though, that at one point I do remember adjusting all my ‘social’ labels to that of gardener and garden writer, in the hope that somehow the label itself might evolve me into one. But, did I really expect myself to carry the notion forward when every day I’d return to the task of gardening itself, and every night my eyes would be tired and creativity diminished?

In any case, deep down did I really possess the words to shift from blogger to writer? Evidently I thought not, as I remember it wasn’t long before I deleted those labels as it felt fraudulent, and I’ve stayed away from such labels to this day.

Furthermore, I’d say that I haven’t classed myself a writer because, whilst I might have secretly harboured those ideas, did I ever seriously consider making them reality? More often I occupied myself by playing things safe, and focusing on being a better gardener.

I now realise that I’ve been missing something, not just blogging in its physical sense, of delivering messages on the theme of gardening, but all of the creative process. I’ve not exactly sat around doing nothing, but over the last few months I’ve missed those hours of editing and creating articles off the back of random images. I’ve also missed the nervous anticipation of hitting that publish button and exposing my words to the world.

So where’s all this preliminary talk leading us? Well, I’ve realised that garden writing is not a skill you’re born with, but one you develop; alongside skills for sparking creativity and editing. Obviously, some people seem naturally talented, as in any walk of life, but whilst I’m certainly not elevating myself too high, there is hope that with a little practice and tuition, I could get there. (Wherever ‘there’ is of course!)

I’ve recognised very recently that writing can be a planned, mechanical, creative process, so why this hasn’t struck me before I just don’t know. I mean, I have followed my own procedures and developed routes to a blog post, but I’d rarely say that my posts displayed real creativity, far from it. If anything, my blog writing processes might actually have suppressed it.

The trigger, which for the time being will stay under wraps, has made me realise that the behind-the-scenes creative process of writing itself; has driven me all along. Every photo or video clip I’ve snatched each day has also been part of that process, but aside from gardening itself, I’m never more engaged or in-the-moment than when I’m doing this – writing.

Every time I’ve sat down to write, sometimes out of desire, sometimes out of duty, the words roll like autumn leaves blowing across a lawn. Some will catch on a noticeable shrub here, others will roll to a lichen covered bench there, but most often they’ll assemble in a tidy-ish pile for collection, and distribution.

OK, so I can openly say that I’ve started more posts than I finished, and deleted more words than I’ve ever published, but I now understand that to be a normal part of the process. All this time I’ve cursed myself for not having the ability to evolve into a writer, and not understanding that it’s really a skill that can be developed, honed and improved.

Looking ahead, I’m not saying that articles will suddenly flow thick and fast, because in many ways I’m still getting to grips with where I am and where I want the blog to go; combined with the fact that I’m really seeing this post as a new beginning. Equally, I know I have quite a job ahead to break from the structure of my previous articles, a posting style that I’ve desperately wanted to change for a long while. Overall, if it matters to you at all, I can at least assure that I shall be working on my writing in the days ahead, and in the process I hope, figuring out who I am, and what I want to say.

So there you have it, these words might have received some editing, but I’ve spoke openly and honestly about where I’ve been, and why. I’ve not rushed it, although I might have overthought it somewhat, and I’ve enjoyed the process more this time. Let’s hope it doesn’t come back to haunt me.

I’ll come back soon, for sure, but not so soon as to force an article. I’ll be aiming to produce something that comes from my new found creative and happy place; and I can’t wait to see where the words take us. Who knows, maybe one day from my happy place, a book or magazine article might pop out; we shall just have to see.

Thanks for sticking with me through all of the above, I really do appreciate your time and equally, I’d really appreciate your thoughts and comments. Do feel free to DM me on Instagram or Twitter if that’s easier, but I’d love to hear from you either way.

Kind regards, Gary

A Gardener; to be or not to be?

| Gary Webb

Hello and welcome to my Gardening Ways blog, where this time I shine a light on being a gardener, a life in horticulture if you will. I’ve not written for a while, so without wanting to shower you with excuses, I’ll simply say that I’m here now, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the process of putting this post together, and that for someone, I hope it proves useful.

You might be familiar with the situation where you find a subject intriguing, so you read up to learn a little more about it, maybe through some magazines or via websites. Then, after your interest is piqued, you move to immerse yourself in the topic in order to fill up your knowledge bank. But somewhere along the way, when you’re feeling like you pretty much have it in the bag, you realise there’s an awful lot more to know. You might then feel as though regardless of how much you now try to absorb, you just can’t learn enough, there might even be bouts of imposter syndrome.

Horticulture, for me, has been like this. For anyone though, it might be an instantaneous fascination of a single plant or flower, or maybe a new responsibility of caring for a garden space. Whatever it is, if you are drawn into the world of plants, gardens and horticulture, be prepared for a subject that will both embrace you and unfold before you. Furthermore, should your interest nudge you to consider horticulture as a career, be aware that it’s as deep and broad a subject as any other, and if you stay the course it can offer a lifetime of learning, discovery and fulfilment.

I will say however, that those who do choose horticulture as a career path will not necessarily have an easy journey. Metaphorically speaking, there will be locked garden gates along the way, many doubters of your ability and worth, and sphinxes will sit besides the path posing challenging riddles for you to solve. Some of those gates will swing open and riddles will be solved, but as with all journeys there will be new distractions and opportunities as we progress. In short, I’m saying be prepared for a bumpy wheelbarrow ride!

A bright yellow Rudbeckia flower by Gary Webb ©

As with many other trades I’m sure, a working life in horticulture means that you will meet and learn from many inspiring individuals, and I think this is of prime importance for anyone’s journey. Key characters from my past, even from years ago stay fresh in my mind. I can sit here now and be transported to points where one fascinating person or another stood in a garden, waxing lyrical about the place and its qualities, or about a plant and its history, medicinal use or some other revealing aspect.

In my mind I can step back in time and stand before wise figures from the horticultural world, some indeed who have long since departed. They inspired me back then, and I was fully aware of it. Interestingly though, those people inspire me now, each person’s wisdom, calmness, excitable or focused character still today, feeding my spirit. Even those who miss named plants, or followed horticultural practices I might have considered out-of-date; still taught me lessons.

As you journey, many characters specifically sent for you will offer similar lessons. Whether it’s Monty Don delivering his Friday night tips for seed sowing, a teacher unraveling botanical science, or a guiding figure who sowed sunflower seeds with you as a child; almost every one of them will have a part to play in helping you reach your green ideals.

However we journey and whoever we encounter, our experiences will stick with us. Horticulture and gardening can embrace us, push us, carry and care for us too; plants putting food in our bellies, ointment on our skin, clothes on our backs and shelter over our heads. I won’t even get started on the wellbeing aspect of horticulture!

Personally, I approached this post having trodden, crunched, stomped, laboured and slipped my way along a good few garden, woodland and parkland paths. I feel I’ve served my time on finger-numbing brush-cutters, chipped teeth on wayward tree limbs, fallen out of shrubs, scrubbed too many spark plugs, and latterly have stared into the depths of far too many spreadsheets. However, I’ve also witnessed the most heart lifting sun rises and sets, and have held my breath when wildlife came close. I’ve worked in some of the most awe inspiring spaces, and I don’t know where to start when considering the plants (friends) I’ve met and brought into the world.

There is however much more for me yet, as when I cast my mind back to all the incredible places I’ve been and the wisdom filled people I’ve encountered, I still have a desire to experience more. I wouldn’t change most of what’s happened, but I do want to influence what is ahead; because there are so many wonderful plants, gardens, landscapes and people out there. I can only hope I have enough time left!

Naturally, it’s not all about taking risks as it might read above, but it is about considering, carefully, your route. Think about where or what you want to be doing further down the line, and if it’s hard to picture that, get yourself out to places for consideration. Sit on a garden bench and ask yourself if the place has, or could, hold enough diversity to keep your interest. Invite yourself or volunteer at a nursery to see if production horticulture could be your thing, or even try a short distance course to learn the ropes.

If you’re starting out or considering a career in horticulture, then I hope to have said a few words here that will be of use. I’d like to finish by saying the following about my own world of horticulture, give you my view of gardening if you’ll allow:

Do not in the least be put off by that breadth or depth I mention above, but be inspired by the diversity of options and the many layers. Explore as many paths as you can, as early as you can, be inquisitive and ask lots of questions. Consider specialising in particular plants or techniques yes, or being a generalist; and having complete confidence in that. But please don’t ever expect to know it all; just be prepared to learn a good deal, over a good deal of time, and keep an open, broad, mind.

Remember that it’s brilliant and inspirational to be someone who holds encyclopaedic knowledge, but it’s also ok not to know a plant name, not to know when to prune a particular shrub, or not to have visited that world famous garden.

Horticulture is so vast a subject and full of opportunity that it is enough to simply keep plodding and to hold a steady job, as it is to keep venturing; just remember that both routes can be enjoyed all the more if you retain an appetite for learning and discovery, and you stay prepared for change and adaptation.

To be, or not to be a gardener, the choice is yours!

Many thanks for reading to the end, if it’s triggered any questions, I’d be very happy to answer in the comments section, or you can message me on Twitter or Instagram.

Kind regards, Gary, Gardening Ways

My Woven Web

| Gary Webb

Hello and welcome back to my gardening ways blog. It has been a while since I last showed up, but many thanks for stopping by. I hope you’ll find something to delight, entertain or connect with, be it a few moments pondering my weird take on a life in horticulture, or enjoyment of a few carefully selected seasonal images and notes.

If you know my blog, you’ll know the importance I place on images which contribute hugely to whichever piece I’m presenting. You’ll understand, that for the first time in I don’t know how long, I’m jumping straight into the writing, and the images will be randomly squeezed in afterwards. This isn’t due to a shortage of pictures by the way, but more related to my present state of mind. In the next few lines, all will become apparent, as they say!

Manipulated image of a gardener at work on an allotment.
A manipulated image of my good self at work on the allotment.

The different approach to this post is due to the strange horticultural path I feel I’m treading just now, balanced precariously as I am between a garden consultancy role, restoring an allotment, and establishing a new garden at home. (This lifestyle shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise if you know me at all!)

I don’t think I’m different to many other people, in as much that I’m inspired regularly by my surroundings and situations, and I’m increasingly driven to capture them in some way. To this end, I’m usually to be found snapping pictures of flowers, bees, beetles and anything garden-like, in fact anything ancient, artistic or horticulturally trivial that captures my attention. I’ll often lag behind on an outing, only to have to hurry to catch up because I got caught up taking some pictures!

Woolsthorpe Manor and Newton’s apple tree in full leaf, positioned behind a low wattle barrier
Another property on my patch, so to speak: Woolsthorpe Manor, with Newton’s apple tree.

In the last week alone, I’ve filmed clips of freshly shooting trees, grazing deer, potato planting, potting-up in the garden, dragonflies resting, and both wild flowers and roses swaying in the breeze. It’s all linked I think, yet makes my photo archive something of a random mix of visuals. You might experience a slither of the experience were you to scroll down my Instagram page!

The random nature of my imagery has become all the more varied since taking a major personal turn in direction towards the end of last year with, as mentioned previously: a new home, a new allotment and new job. I’ve always collected images of course, but now they’re from here, there, and seemingly everywhere!

A seedling Rowan tree in a pot
An important little seedling Rowan tree, its family line stretching back to a family garden two generations back.

However, despite the head-filling work days and remaining no-time-to-rest hours left over each week, I feel duty bound to record a post that in some ways will capture this moment in time for me; a time when some days deliver intense frustration or exhaustion, whilst other days can present moments of complete fascination, enlightened discovery and new levels of personal fulfilment. It’s hard to explain, bu oh what a woven web we weave.

If only I could stitch all the good moments together and edit out all the bad. If the whole journey could flow and not switch lanes every five minutes. If the rain only fell at night to refresh our gardens. It would be all perfect and life would be more enjoyable, right? Wrong? Who knows.

What I do know is that it’s usually a matter of balance, in as much that the challenging moments often make the special moments even more special; a case of yin and yang I guess.

Father and son studying tadpoles in the historic garden that is Painswick Rococo Garden.
A special moment studying tadpoles with my lad at Painswick Rococo Garden.

The main body of text in this post doesn’t therefore tell a story, or record key themes as my typical garden journal posts would, but hopefully, in the spirit of openness, lets you know where I’m at mentally. The images selected, therefore, whilst not themed to the post itself will nevertheless be chosen to indicate the random nature of the days I’m experiencing.

If none of it makes sense, or is hard to contemplate, rest assured that plants are still there every day in abundance. Physical gardening, whilst randomly placed, calls me regularly, keeps me active and keeps my thumbs green, and my mental engagement in the horticultural world has risen to new, infuriatingly brilliant levels. It’s all very busy, and all very fascinating!

Berrington Hall, Herefordshire
Berrington Hall, Herefordshire, acknowledged as ‘Capability’ Brown’s last landscape commission. Tomorrow I visit Croome in Worcestershire, also on my patch, & Brown’s first large scale project.

Putting all that heaviness aside, I do hope you’ve been enjoying all the growth that spring has brought. It feels as though we’re on summer’s doorstep now and its warmth is already wafting over our gardens.

I’ve enjoyed some catch-up sessions watching Chelsea Flower Show on TV, and despite my concerns over the whole shebang, I can’t help but be inspired by the creative people and entirety of the product; I hope you’ve managed to watch some or even visit the real thing?! (If you’re more of a Beechgrove fan, I’m right there with you too).

I’ll leave things there for now, but will in my closing words encourage you to stay positive, enjoy the flowers and keep in touch. Oh yes, and please do pass on the keys to a balanced lifestyle if you have them, I could do with unlocking its mysterious ways!

Kind regards
Gary

Raising the Hedge

| Gary Webb

Welcome to my GardeningWays blog, where this week I shall attempt to give rise to the significantly trivial formal garden hedge.

Hedge trimmer resting on the hedge top between trimming sessions... at Sulgrave Manor in Northants
Hedge trimming underway at Sulgrave, although that blade can be tighter…

You see, we finally managed to make a start on trimming the yew hedges in the garden at Sulgrave Manor, and whilst there’s a long way yet to go, at least we’ve made a start.

In preparation, I found myself sharpening, and sharpening and sharpening the trimmer teeth, and whilst lost in the moment I started thinking about the formal hedge I was about to trim for the first time. I also began considering formal hedges in the wider world of gardening, and particularly about their reputation.

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