The garden tour.
Learning from other gardeners about building your style.
Hello Everyone.
This time of year, I am often asked about my garden. "How is it doing?" friends inquire. It is akin to asking someone how they are – I can answer the polite way and say "fine, and you?" because it is the formality rather than an actual inquiry. The truth is that my garden is not great this year. The weather is quite humbling, with weeks of rain followed by cold, then heat and humidity. But there it is. I am learning to politely respond, "It's doing well, thank you. And yours?"
Deep down, regardless of how my garden looks, I have learned to appreciate how it makes me feel. It brings me great joy to know that every plant in my garden was one that I chose. I enjoy watching the daily changes, and the hours spent on my knees weeding, allowing me to see the soil up close. The lettuce is finally growing, thanks to a clever setup that keeps the rabbits out, but it looks atrocious.
On the bright side, the annual poppies are springing up everywhere; the blue-green leaves of the Hosta are a living sculpture, and the elongated spires of the Cimicifuga have never been taller. However, regardless of what I love about my garden this week, it is not a prime specimen for a garden tour. But it’s good enough for me.
For too many years, I grew a garden exclusively to be viewed by others as a display garden. It was a working garden, a sacrifice I made to have a garden open to the public, as part of my gardening business. My goal was to provide visitors with a way to see how an edible garden can be integrated into the landscape while being both productive and aesthetically pleasing. Many gardeners had given up growing food, but I wanted to inspire them to grow vegetables alongside their flowers.
If I were to offer advice to my gardening self of 20 years ago, it would be not to worry about what others think, because most gardeners feel better about their garden if they see one that is not perfect.
One year, my garden was featured on the Garden Conservancy Open Days Tours, shortly after my first book was published. It was at this time of year, early July, when everything is relatively easy to have in tip-top shape, but I worked hard because the other gardens on the tour were extensive estate gardens with a team of gardeners. Mine was small, manageable, and a solo effort. The comments I heard were that it was a relief to see a garden that looked like something they could achieve in their own yard.
In truth, this sounded a little like when your house is a bit messy, and guests say it looks lived-in or comfortable. It’s unclear if this is a compliment or a well-disguised insult. But I’ve managed to adopt this attitude.
And now that I don’t care what my garden looks like, it allows me more time to get out to visit other gardens. It's educational, fun, and most importantly, talking with other gardeners about their process, their initial visions, and how they plan to keep the garden evolving makes me feel better about what started off as a well kept garden, and has now grown into a large mass of plants.
Touring a garden is different from walking through a farmer's market; I don't do a quick walk-through and then go back to pick out what I like. Instead, I walk through slowly, thoughtfully, taking in everything, allowing it to form an impression only once. Over the past month, I have visited over a dozen gardens, and each gardener brings their unique style. It is not for me to judge their gardens, but I am taking mental notes about what I don't like as much as what I do enjoy.
Some are too crowded with plants, while others are too manicured. The best make me want to linger or walk through them again to see what I might have missed. The more gardens I visit, the better I become at observing with a deeper understanding of the elements that truly constitute a “good” garden, such as soil health and plant diversity. While I have always thought that massing plants in groups of three or five was the right approach, I am now learning that a variety of individual, exceptional plants can create a powerful effect, especially in a small space.
When I return home after a day of touring, I can see how to make changes in my landscape, both big and small. A garden is like a home; it requires constant upkeep and curating. It is just as much about the way you feel inside as it is about the individual plants and the colors. It is about flow, not just with paths, but with the eye.
Garden style is something that we might not recognize as our own, or choose intentionally, but others can see it. Are the beds orderly, or are they scattered all over the landscape? Some eclectic gardeners are unable to stop when it comes to plant love and can justify adding one more plant, which leads to a chaotic feeling. I can only imagine how this is reflected in their homes.
While some gardeners can't discard any plants when dividing, and instead build another bed to keep adding to, which creates a garden that is too repetitive. This might be the 'too many chairs syndrome,' which occurs when you inherit furniture. I can see it starting in my own house, and a little bit in my garden.
Other gardens are designed by a landscape team and maintained by a landscape crew, which sucks the life out of the garden. Often surrounded by a perfect weed-free lawn, with roses that have been sprayed, near the glistening pool and unused fire pit, these gardens will never be allowed to evolve and mature. They are kept in a perpetual state of bloom for the homeowner's pleasure, rather than the plants', forsaking an actual garden. These are designer gardens, for show only.
The most interesting gardens are artistic and maintain a constant flow, evolving into something new each year. A garden is a living entity and should be allowed, within reason, to do whatever it wants, and thus provide the gardener with a new project each season, because the soul of a garden lies in its imperfections.
It's the little details that thrill me: moss on a shed roof, sprawling plants that crowd a path, a snake sleeping on a stone, and birdhouses alive with activity. These are signs that it is a healthy garden, too; it gives it a sense of purpose as well as beauty.
Much like in a museum, I prefer to walk in silence. I pay attention to the way it sounds, as much as what I am seeing. If I'm with a friend, it's too easy to be more critical of certain aspects, expressing what we like or dislike —a habit that keeps the conversation going. I’m learning to make the effort to notice, to feel, and to find a few good ideas that make the garden special. And to observe the gardener’s style.
After a day of visiting gardens, I may come home feeling discouraged about my garden. This doesn't happen too often, or last very long, because it's easy to see that what I have created is good enough for now. It is a working garden, and no longer a show garden. If I can ignore what needs to be done and focus instead on how it makes me feel, I've grasped the art of gardening. And for this, I am grateful.
From my garden to yours,
Ellen Ecker Ogden
The Art of Growing Food Newsletter is all about cultivating an artful kitchen garden. You will find design ideas, recipes, and sometimes inspiration to keep having fun in the garden, for cooks who love to garden, and gardeners who love to cook.
Thank you for subscribing! - Ellen Ecker Ogden
As a three-time tour host, I couldn’t agree more.
Ellen I love this insight into your garden and love of gardening! Tom and I have had a disappointing year due to all the reasons you mentioned. Let's find a time soon.
Kate