Gardening - a true creative pursuit
/Late last year I held an open day in my urban Christchurch garden. This was less about presenting a pristine example of an ornamental planting (something that is virtually out of reach as I am too good at turning a blind eye to the problem areas) and more about demonstrating the satisfying and rapid results of utilising perennials. I was so surprised at the fullness of my first season’s beds that I wanted to share them as an encouraging example for others who might be finding the development of a garden a tad tedious.
The day went well with five interested groups booking in for 55 minutes of garden immersion. Due to my loquacious ways, the visitors had no time to themselves, instead receiving a blow-by-blow report of every inch and every plant involved in my journey thus far. On reflection, I have a lot of tweaks to make in regard to my delivery and I’m sure a cup of tea would have been appreciated!
I found it fascinating though, in the brief moments when my visitors could squeeze in a comment or a question, to see the planting through their eyes. Observations were made about the absence of rhododendrons, azaleas and an obvious lack of roses.
I had to admit that I was too greedy with my small amount of ground to give those larger shrubs the room they needed and the lack of roses boiled down to a similar issue. Despite wanting to, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice any of my existing plant specimens to allow them space in a suitable spot!
One keen-eyed visitor asked what I had planted for fragrance. This had me spinning and scanning to offer her examples, only to realise that my summer garden wasn’t smelly at all! How did that happen?
Concerns were raised on my inclusion of certain plants. These warnings were absolutely fair and ones I was also aware of when making the decision to plant. The worries were mostly centred on rampant creatures like Japanese anemones, eager spreader Lysimachia clethroides Gooseneck Loosestrife and my mention of a certain hard-to-obtain lupin.
I reassured my visitors immediately that, in my space, for some reason, the anemones don’t spread without me forcing them to, and that the loosestrife’s eagerness was a welcome gap filler as it was very easily pulled out from the roots in one tug. What’s more, the lupin – Lupinus mutabilis var. cruckshankii ‘White Javelin’ possessed none of the invasive behaviour of its perennial cousin the Russell lupin, and had never once self-seeded.
My plant-based decision-making was again bought to the fore after visiting the garden of a friend this week. I deeply admire her curation and diversity in planting which I very well know rests on intensive research and understanding of her environment.
With the memory of her place fresh in my mind, I returned to my own and laid my 6-year-old gardening eyes across my plot. The new planting I had so painstakingly planned looked impressive in its first-year fullness, tinged with a kind of chaotic fairyland appeal. Knowing each plant intimately I hadn’t stepped back to view the beds as a single entity and on doing so realised a couple of things – I seem to be obsessively drawn to airy dotty plants and this summer space really could be all too saccharine and busy for many people.
Had I missed my opportunity to balance the wildness with some stronger, anchoring shapes beyond my wee topiary balls that had long since been swallowed up? How is that a former hater of purple has ended up with so much of it? And what is with all the white?
I plodded to my swinging seat under the cherry tree to consider the beds from a different angle and take in the other areas of the garden. It’s here that I reflected on the journey that had led me to now.
The purchase of this property in 2017 and the tentative steps made in introducing plants that I didn’t know the names of, let alone how to grow. The rising fascination and addiction to all things garden related. The endless googling, YouTube watching, research and book buying followed by my own book writing and column conjuring.
“ Beyond the undeniable benefits I found for myself with those hours spent in the earth, planting, visualising and generally shutting out the entire world – I think it’s the creativity of it all that hooked me. ”
My frothy fairy garden is as tangible a creation as the artwork I make in my studio.
Each planting decision and combination (coloured white, purple or neon peach) is my mind running away with itself in the same way I decide to combine colours in a painting. The research required on appropriate plants to reach my vision is the same as the time I spend gleaning product information from the art store owner. The shifting of plants and introduction of new ones, is the same as revisiting a painting after sleeping on it, knowing a better result is within reach.
And in the true vein of creativity, my fleeting garden canvas holds as much importance as the gardens made by each neighbour down my street. It’s here that our uniquely personal values and inclinations can be expressed via mother nature. No art school or permission is needed.
The sacrifice of fragrance and dismissal of trusty common plants speaks entirely of my predisposition to lean toward whimsy and the immense satisfaction I find in visual results. Eager plants are welcomed as I hold more value in their appearance than in the time spent controlling them.
In saying that, I still can’t explain how I have become a purple person…
This is an expanded version of the article featured in my Stuff ‘Homed’ gardening column also republished in The Press, Dominion Post and other regional papers on February 2nd 2023.
All words and images are my own, taken in my home and garden in Christchurch, New Zealand unless otherwise captioned.
