Garden view
Does pressure from social media spoil our joy of gardening? helen Billiald thinks it might
Does social media pressure spoil our joy of gardening? Helen Billiald thinks it might
There’s gardening inspiration all around us these days, but can too much of it be a bad thing? Most of us own a few really old gardening books – dog-eared hand-me-downs or finds from the local charity shop. Save for the odd line drawing and a few black and white photo plates, none of them has illustrations. Colour in those days existed mainly in the reader’s imagination. So it’s humbling to think how easy we have it today. There’s no risk of us lacking garden inspiration with this beautifully illustrated magazine at our fingertips, while just a few minutes on social media will send us diving into an ocean of garden photography from all around the globe. One moment you’re in Shanghai where #DanPearson is filming the blessing of a King Camphor Tree; the next #PietOudolf is photographing his weeping pear, its silhouette sculpted as though by coastal winds. Still marvelling at Piet’s pear and how he trained it, I stumble across a wavy-edged buxus hedge at #FarleighHouse and fall in love with the flock of steel seagulls that skim low over its crests. This digital brilliance is relentless, as I ricochet between plants I’d like to grow (the gorgeous giant fennel at #GreatDixter) and things I’d like to see (the pink blossom carpeting gravel circles at #Chanticleer).
#jugglingnappies
Today we have the whole dazzling gardening world laid out before us, filled with brilliant and inventive ideas from which to cherry pick. Just four years ago, when I was effectively tied to the house juggling nappies, it was a huge comfort to see the outside world was still there, waiting for that miraculous day when I’d emerge again, fed, showered and clued up enough not to lock myself out of the house. But lately I’ve noticed this daily inspiration comes with a hidden cost: now nothing I do in the garden is quite good enough. The alarm bell sounded over a bowl of home-grown salad – a fancy mix of lettuce, spinach, rocket, crinkled cress, coriander, chrysanth and mustard. Granted, one child said it tasted like soap and the other that is was too spicy, but we adults agreed it was a delicious plateful. My main thought as I ate this dinner? That it was a shame my salad garden was so behind this year. My Instagram feed is full of keen allotmenteers and fellow veg-growing enthusiasts. In this online world someone’s always cutting flowers earlier than you, or harvesting bigger crops than you. It’s like turning up at the village show with your ‘giant’ marrow only to discover you’ve been nurturing a tiddler. And it’s not just my veggies being subjected to a newly critical eye. The f lower borders didn’t seem ravishing enough this year; there were gaps where winter had seen off my prized artichoke plants, and the meadow was looking pretty, but surely I should have moved those compost bins? It doesn’t take much soul searching to see the hop, skip and jump from welcome inspiration through critique to withering judgement. I’m all for inspiration raising the bar, but I think I’d better make sure it isn’t at the expense of enjoying my own precious plot.
helen Billiald is a garden writer with a Phd in ecology and an Msc in Pest Management. she’s currently nurturing courgettes in the hope they’ll win a rosette at the village fête
“Online, someone’s always harvesting bigger crops than you”