Plant magic
From frustration to joy
It can’t be just me raising my eyebrows at some of the twaddle in even the most reputable gardening press. One of the top magazines had a feature last month on slug free plants. I wondered if it was written by someone who had never gardened. Decades ago I used to write plenty of commissioned pieces about gardening subjects that were more researched than experienced, relying on other people’s variable knowledge rather than my own. It’s fine to do that but never to pretend you are writing from your own experience. The same magazine had an excellent piece about designing boundaries, how to screen your space from over observation. But the suggestions would require you either to spend small fortunes on mature trees or wait 15 years or so to get the desired privacy. It got me thinking about garden writing again. Reasonably new kid on the block is the Scribehound gardening app pumping out an interesting feature a day which many of us probably signed up to and loads will forget to unsubscribe from (it’s not obvious how to do it). Of course the writers are good at their craft, of course some pieces are truly interesting, but could there be a bit too much still too conventional writing about gardens at the moment? Is it all a bit smug and self indulgent? Again? Am I alone in wanting a bit more criticism/ emotion/politics/reality in whatever is fed to me. Who is it all for?
Or perhaps I am just a bit bitter – my agent has been hawking around my downsizing book and publishers have been reluctant to embrace the idea with open arms. Perhaps I should simply have gone for the mass market approach and called it “My Garden is too big. Help!” rather than Growing Older and Wilder. Apparently it’s just not a sexy enough subject, or not from me. But I enjoyed writing it so far and it may yet find a home or I will no doubt at the very least turn bits into small pieces that will find their way into various publications. But I have a confession, I’m actually quite happy to have time freed up to do something else at the moment.
When I moved here I had imagined getting the house together, getting to grips with the garden, getting away for a few weeks and then getting stuck in to writing in my new delightful work room. But I have been really missing working with plants. I suppose it’s not surprising, I started my cut flower business almost 25 years ago and spent the next 20 years plus fully involved. Plants were my daily bread, literally. And my daily joy. I loved growing them, using them, working with them, watching them, marvelling at them, enjoying them, treasuring them. I have come to realise that I need to have a relationship with plants and nature to link me to the wider and wilder world and root me there.
I have a new garden which is coming on. It’s huge fun deciding who is going to live here - and it has been intriguing trying to find a way to solve my own screening issue, how to obscure the view of my neighbours strange “garden” from my balcony view. I can’t wait 15 years to hide it so I have cut long lengths of bamboo (the only thing in this garden when I arrived) and stuck it in the ground so its dying fronds wave and rustle and blur the edges of the panel fence and the view beyond, it does fine for now while the trees grow. But I seem to want more than simply creating a new garden. I seem to need a wider connection with plants and nature. I want to work with plants, I want plants to work with me.
Happily I live in a beautiful place surrounded by common land and woodland. There is space to breathe and dream. And forage. I have started collecting barks and twigs, greenery and brownery on my lengthening walks. Friends bring me interesting coloured roots. And I am planting madder and woad, weld and calendula as well as many non-recommended plants that may have potential in a dye pot. The farm shop is supplying me with rhubarb leaves as I can’t harvest enough. I have three old wash coppers that are going to be bead blasted to remove the rust so I can use them as steamers, and every large pot I have ever owned has been thrust into new service.
Locality and seasonality were the roots of my cut flower business . I have an idea they are going to be at the roots of this new venture/adventure too. Who wouldn’t love beautifully coloured fabric treasures seasonally dyed from your own neighbourhood or even your own garden? I’m as surprised as anyone to find myself back experimenting with multiple buckets of magic, heading for a needle and thread or backchatting to the sewing machine, but so far I am loving every possibility.
Ironically, or typically, for decades I had quite a good collection of dyeing books on my shelves as at one stage I made handmade papers coloured with plant extracts. When I moved I culled 27 crates of books as I had a notion I just wouldn’t have room for more than a small proportion of my library, and the dyeing titles were among the 27 crates of books I got rid of. They so nearly made the cut but I remember deciding that I would never need to consult them again. I am searching for copies of my favourites on secondhand book sites. Perhaps I will end up buying some of my own back.
Today I purchased six black dustbins as my preserving pans are already too small, and an aluminium bin as some colours seem clearer with a bit of extra aluminium. Though that might not be a reliable observation. There is so much to think about and work out, months of extracting and experimenting with mordants and colour, months of chatting with others and sharing and gleaning hints and tips, more months of designing and making. I think – I dare to think – that the plants and I are going to get on just fine. I have always enjoyed working with plants and they haven’t let me down yet. I’m looking forward to a colourful summer.