Garden visiting is one of the most important things a gardener can do. Getting out of our gardens to see what other people are up to is not an indulgence, it’s an absolute necessity.
It gives us a break from the actual work of maintaining our garden, vital for even the most committed gardener, and gives us a chance to gain new perspectives.
Plane trees (Platanus); not the sort of planting I’m keen on, but good to see anyway
How much do we actually see the garden though? A preposterous question; we visit the garden, we see things with our eyes, we go home. Yet do we actually take in what we’re seeing? Sure we take lots of pictures that we don’t really ever look at again, but nothing can compare to experiencing a garden.
Fascinating paving at Tremenheere (UK), a picture I’ve not looked at for many years
Over here
In the UK the ‘garden experience’ seems to be wholly centred around tea and cake. Visitors use the garden as a place to exercise before descending on the cafe or tea room to eat and drink. When a Brit says “let’s go and visit a garden” they’re actually saying “fancy going somewhere for cake?”
I get it; it’s one of those cultural idiosyncrasies that we have here. It’s a nice thing to do, to see flowers and then consume tea and cake.
I also think it’s a shame that people travel to gardens, large or small, and seldom take the time to truly appreciate what it is they’re seeing. People work hard to make these gardens, as we all know from creating our own gardens.
What’s the problem?
Visitors to a garden are welcome, of course, to enjoy the garden at every level. You can visit a garden to look at flowers, to be somewhere different, and maybe even to enjoy some peace and quiet. Of course peace and quiet isn’t always guaranteed, as I wrote back in March.
This is the beauty of a garden; it’s accessible for everyone regardless of their level of knowledge or interest.
An inviting old brick shed in a garden. I’d love to have one in my garden!
I’m making the assumption that GardenRant readers like to know how to take things to the ‘next level’.
How to see a garden
I’m going to share with you a simple exercise in seeing a garden. It’s an easy little tool that breaks us out of the either ‘passive glancing’ (quick look, move on) or ‘ingredient shopping’ (looking at every plant individually).
When you enter a new part or section of a garden, take a moment to ask yourself “what do I really love about this?” Find one element, and only one, that is your absolute must-have. It can be a plant, it can be a colour or colour combination, it can be a feature such as a statue or sculpture. One single thing that is your absolute favourite.
A stone rill at The Newt (UK). It’s really nice but I think I’d do it a bit differently myself
Then we turn the question around: “what is my least favourite thing here?” You must pick one thing that you’re less keen on, and again it can be a plant, a colour or colour combination… anything at all.
This conscious and disciplined choosing of one favourite and one least favourite thing breaks down the passive nature of garden viewing. You’re forcing your mind to see things more clearly, while also consciously building up an impression of the things that you really like and the things you’re really not quite as keen on.
It stops you, or I should say that it us because I use this technique a lot, from falling back on the default “this garden is nice”. ‘Nice’ is a non-committal word; it’s lazy and simply says that what we see is generally agreeable. We don’t like something enough to dig into our vocabulary to find more expressive words, but we also don’t see enough things we dislike to say that a garden is bad (or insert your own word along these lines…).
Case study
Take a look at this planting at the world famous Hidcote garden in England. Take a moment to really take in what you’re seeing.
It’s quite serene, it’s very well done. I like it, I really do.
So what’s my favourite thing? It’s difficult because I like what I see. Forcing myself to choose one thing I really like, I think it would have to be the neat little Euonymus hedge. Little hedges aren’t really my thing, but look how wonderfully neat it is, and the use of the variegated form of the usually green plant makes the hedge cheerful and light.
I like the whole thing; the little hedge is my single favourite thing, but you might well choose something else.
Let’s have a look at the picture again.
What’s my least favourite thing here? This is very tricky for me; there’s nothing here that I wouldn’t happily have in my own garden, so choosing something to ‘not like’ is difficult. I wonder if the variegated hedge would look better if it wasn’t echoed by the variegated dogwood (Cornus alba ‘Elegantissima’ I think) in the background? Putting my hand over the plant in the picture doesn’t seem to make much difference.
Forcing myself to find something to not like, I think I’d have to say that I would prefer the centrepiece plant to be a bit bigger. To my eye it’s a little small compared to the exuberance around it, it’s out of scale as it were. You may agree or disagree, or might have something else that you’re not keen on.
So what have we learnt here?
We’ve gone from looking at a scene as a whole to analysing what we see. In my personal case I now know that the little variegated Euonymus, not a plant I’ve been particularly drawn to in the past, makes a nice little edging hedge for a formal border, and I’ve been reminded of the importance of scale when it comes to using things like ‘lollipop’ bushes; this could be useful to bear in mind if I do topiary at some point.
You may agree with my thoughts or have your own, but fundamentally we’ve gone into more depth than probably 99% of people who see this planting during their visit to the garden. We’ve made observations that we could use for our own gardens, and cemented our ideas of what we like and what we don’t like.
You can apply the same critical thinking to plants, like this unusually coloured peony
Use it wisely
This little technique is a great tool for gardeners, and by all means share it with others.
But with great power comes great responsibility.
You’re learning the art of viewing gardens critically; not everyone wants the criticism. Fundamentally this is a tool to use yourself, internally, or with a small group of trusted friends. If you march up to a garden owner to give them the benefit of your wisdom then don’t be surprised if you come away with a broken nose!
Few gardeners are violent people but many are protective of their gardens. Reviewing or critiquing a garden, as we do here at GardenRant, means putting yourself in the firing line with garden owners or gardeners. I’m sure my fellow Ranters will be able to list people who have taken garden criticism to heart and who now bear grudges.
It should never be the intention of any garden critic, formal or informal, to cause upset. Telling someone that their garden is ‘an abomination in the face of God and should be wiped from the face of the earth without mercy’ is rude and unpleasant. You might think it, just don’t say it.
The undergrowth at Stone Lane (UK) might be too untidy for some people but not for others
We’re all entitled to our opinions and we should have them, while also using our insight wisely. The technique above teaches us to look for positives as well as negatives, and I doubt the things we don’t really like as such will ever be something truly terrible.
Having well-informed opinions about gardens and plants is primarily about gaining insight into how our own gardens can be improved. Our gardens can always be improved, no matter how perfect we think they are.
Learning from the experiences of others is a way to gain great gardening wisdom without having to make mistakes yourself.
Suggestion: have your tea and cake first.
Fueled up for some ‘contemplative garden visiting’… yes that could work!
First, I agree with Nina’s idea!
This seems like a good approach to viewing a garden, I like it a lot! In the example, my thoughts were identical to yours. I might even try it in my own garden, although its hard to “see” your own garden, isn’t it?
It’s a technique I’ve been using for some time now, and teaching to anyone who will listen.
Seeing your own garden is a bit like proofreading your own writing; you can stare at it for ages but don’t always pick up on your own errors (or you probably wouldn’t have made them in the first place).
I find it much easier to see my garden in pictures than in reality. And reversing the pictures helps even more.
I’m sure some gardeners would agree; a photograph is abstract from the real thing, so you’re free to look at what you’re seeing without the distraction of sounds etc.
Reversing the pictures is an interesting idea, and I’ll give that a try.
I love this idea and wouldn’t have thought about it on my own. Thank you, Ben! By the way, I think the little hedge would stand out more dramatically if that variegated Cornus were dark green, instead. But that is just me 🙂 Thanks again.
Thank you for reading.
This is a key point about looking at gardens like this, we’re trying to look in more depth for our own understanding, so while some would agree that the Cornus is a distraction others would say it adds to the effect. The joy is that we’re free from having to make decisions, and instead we’re simply gaining an understanding of what we think and perceive.
Wise advice on all counts. Veering from your main points a bit, I have to say that I was struck by the cake thing. I’ve heard people comment about offering tea and cake during open garden showings in the UK but I never realized that it was a common thing. There are relatively few open garden showings – or garden shows for that matter – in my part of the world (coastal Southern California) and I can’t say I’ve ever seen cake or any form of refreshment offered at any of those I’ve attended. Maybe cake would encourage more people to visit open gardens and lead to more than the paltry number of open gardens we see now. Not ideal I realize from the perspective of educating oneself about plants and gardening perhaps but getting more people in to visit gardens would be a big positive here.
Yes I think refreshments do play a part in encouraging visitors. It’s sad that in the UK many horticultural businesses, such as nurseries and garden centres for example, have had to open up some sort of catering to stay open. Sure people will pop in and pick up something specific but if a business wants them to stay longer (and spend more) then they need some edible enticement.
We have special road signs for tourist attractions here, and about 15 years ago the rules changed so that if you wanted one of these special signs for your garden you had to offer more than just the garden.
We fail to offer tea and cake, and in the UK that shocks people.
I’m shocked.
You’d settle for plants……
I think your advice is not only good for garden viewing but worthy of applying to books, art, architecture etc. It truly is too easy, and not too rewarding, to assess an experience with a like or did not like.
Simple but valuable suggestions!
Thank you
Absolutely, anything that we experience can be given this simple treatment.
I’ve been doing this, and teaching it periodically, for many years now and what’s surprised me is that I haven’t ended up instinctively ‘hating’ anything.
I remember reading years ago that if there are clean loos and a good tea the garden was almost incidental! Always enjoy your posts and will consider gardens as you suggest. Generally it has been what I like most and not given as much consideration to the bit I liked least
I’ve heard similar logic applied; I’m sure there’s truth to it, but at the same time the gardens can offer us the most incredible wealth of information if we look.
In some gardens I don’t really see anything I dislike, which is why I’ve been teaching myself to look at the things I like the least instead. If the thing I like the least is something that doesn’t really bother me then I must be in a garden that I really enjoy.
I agree with all your suggestions for how to look at othrr people’s gardens, when I visited large public in the company of other gardeners. We did just as you say, made pictures of individual parts of the garden and talked about how to apply these ideas im our gardens; we would check how they trained vines on pergolas, and other supports, We were working the whole time. This was a long time ago but I still want to learn how gardens work! Thanks for your thoughful report!
Other gardens are an incredible resource; sometimes they end up inventing a whole new way of doing things that works really well, like how they train their vines, and because you’ve seen it and seen how it works you know how to improve your own techniques. That said, you can also see some horrors in gardens, but learning from someone else’s mistake means not making it yourself.
Thank you for reading.
Ben’s suggestion of taking an analytical approach to learning both positive and negative attributes seems well suited to do on a solo visit to a garden. It is much harder to accomplish the critical program described if engaged in social chit chat. And when our social circle of garden makers grows large enough, we know precisely with whom to partner to both have the space to stop conversation and start analyzing. Then, we can share our “judgments” and gain insights from observations and perceptions different from our own. Ben let us walk with him and see where we agree.
It’s a technique that can be used solo and in small, trusted, groups. Larger groups would make the technique a little more cumbersome as it would end up taking so much time that nobody would be able to move on and see the rest of the garden!
I like your idea also, and when I get an opportunity to visit a garden, I will put it to use. When you use this technique, are you breaking down the garden into individual parts, or looking at the whole effect, or both?
To me, the garden scene in your pictures has lots wrong with it, but that’s my problem. I can be very critical – one of my many faults. I try to do so constructively, though. I would eliminate the silver plant that’s trying to eat the poor little centerpiece shrub/tree/lollipop plant. I guess that’s what I like least about this garden. I agree that the lack of contrast between the clipped hedge and the natural shrub in the background is a problem. Not only that, but the garden doesn’t look like it knows what it wants to be – formal or natural? I’m guessing formal, but the Cornus looks like the gardener ran out of time to trim it to match the rest of the garden. Oh, and euonymous here are pest magnets, and have to be constantly sprayed for euonymous scale and mildew so I never recommend planting them.
So that’s my problem. I have a way of getting out of control and can’t stop at just one thing – whether it’s something I like or dislike. What do I like? The pink flowers in the back corner. I suspect this garden looks better in the morning or evening. The photo looks like it was taken when the midday light washes out the color (colour) and shape.
When it comes to how or whether to break the garden down it’s really up to you. In a large garden you’re probably best breaking down areas, but in a smaller garden you might only really look at a few things.
I like your critique: I’m not going to tell you if I agree or not, but you’ve looked in depth and you’ve made considered judgements based on what you see. I would add that the technique I’ve discussed here might prove additionally helpful; by narrowing you down to one thing you really like and one thing you really don’t, this technique might be helpful to move you away from “getting out of control”. There’s a lot of middle ground between the like and dislike, and that’s something to be at peace with.
Good advice, Ben, thanks!
Stephen Anderton used to ask groups he took round gardens which bit they would blow up. I am probably alone in thinking that if you charge entrance for a garden (tea or no tea) you should expect and welcome criticism. See https://veddw.com/general/opening-for-the-ngs/
Absolutely agree, but at the same time it’s important to bear in mind that an endless stream of garden visitors going up to garden owners/gardeners to tell them what they personally don’t like isn’t a good idea.
Dream on. ‘Lovely garden, what a lot of work, what’s that plant?’
Excellent advice. Probably a good idea to use when looking at our own garden spaces.
Quite possibly, although it’s possible that it might be less effective. It’s a good exercise to try, but with the caveat that we might not be able to change the thing we like the least?
This is one of the best articles on gardening I’ve read in a while – I love the practical advice and example to demonstrate an effective way to view gardens with a better eye. I’ll be sharing this with friends and putting this into practice!
I appreciate that you included the “untidy” Stone Lane example at the end too. I much preferred that to the Hidcote, because of how lush, mysterious, and peaceful it felt to me. I would be thrilled to have a spot like that in my garden – my favorite aspects being the illusion of additional depth in a relatively short space provided by the winding path, and the dense fern coverage. The only improvement I see would be to either weed a bit more, or add some flowering plants, just something to mark this as more cultivated vs. wild.
The Hidcote example was underwhelming to me, and felt exposed/washed out. I picked the same favorite item as you: the variegated hedge. I’d like to see more contrast/drama in the scene, though I didn’t have the eye you have to spot what a good improvement would be. I think you’re right on both counts re: contrast, and the lollipop shrub. A water feature, or a very tall grass, would also be a nice centerpiece.
Thank you very much for your kind comments.
We have our various tastes in gardens, drawn as we usually are to some things more than others, but it’s good to get to grips with what we’re seeing beyond the cursory look during a casual visit. I’ve sometimes found myself challenged by the things I think I like or don’t like.