Tales from Titchmarsh

It’s been great spending long sunny days in the garden, says Alan, but closed nurseries and garden centres have cast a long shadow

So, what do you think will happen? To our gardens I mean. With people being exhorted to stay at home and to endure lockdown for more than a month (at the time of writing), will it give them a greater appreciation of that patch of earth we call a garden? I hope with all my heart that all those with even a doorstep, windowbox or pocket-hanky patio will have come to realise the value of the smallest piece of earth in maintaining our mental health and keeping us connected with the earth – the only true and enduring reality. To some, the garden is thought of in the same way as a sock drawer – something to be tidied on a Saturday, but to those of us who love our gardens, they have become an even greater source of solace and joy during lockdown.

Sue and Bill, who have helped me in the garden for around 30 years – first at Barleywood and then in our current garden where we have lived for 18 years now – have stayed at home, as instructed by HM Government, and I have gardened our four acres on my own. About an acre of it is garden proper, the rest comprises a wildflower meadow, a copse and a wildlife pond, but all of it needs care and attention on a daily basis. Any broadcasting has been done from home via Skype or an efficient radiomicrophone, and in-between these occasional bouts of what my wife has come to call ‘addressing the nation’,

I have gardened all day every day. I have loved every minute of it.

How blessed have we been with the weather? Thank goodness the COVID-19 pandemic occurred in spring, rather than autumn, when damp, dreary days and long, dark nights would have sent even the keenest gardener scurrying off in search of a stiff drink (yes, I enjoy one or two of those each evening when my manual labour is done, but that is my way of a celebration of achievement rather than to drown my sorrows).

I mow a bit most days, trying not to let the drone of my machine go on too long to disturb the calm of village life. I have been getting the veg patches up to speed, replanting containers and tubs, renovating borders and watering, watering, watering. The greenhouse has been sorted out – some old faithfuls have been let go (the plants, not the staff) – and the place is much more vibrant and inviting as a result.

I have also been doing my best to encourage the Government to re-open nurseries and garden centres – not only to save a horticultural industry that is now on its knees and might well take years to recover, but also to explain how gardening contributes so much to our mental health, as well as encouraging us to get out into the fresh air and create a haven for both humanity and wildlife. In garden centres, it is far easier than it is in supermarkets to put protocols in place to safeguard public health – they are outdoors, rather than in enclosed air-conditioned buildings. Gardeners need plants. They also need compost and seeds, as mail-order companies run off their feet will testify. Both the RHS and Gardeners’ World Live organisers have published details of all their flower show exhibitors who have plants to sell on their websites – use them and patronise these worthy folk who grow things for love more than for money.

The battle to explain the need for nurseries and garden centres to re-open during the peak two months of their year has been an uphill struggle, and I fear for many growers – lots of them long-standing family businesses – who will be unable to withstand the losses as millions and millions of bedding plants are dumped. There are those who think this is unavoidable. I am not of their number. Bedding plants cheer us up, they offer nectar to bees and butterflies, they brighten front gardens, roundabouts and traffic islands in towns and cities where every patch of brightness among the concrete, brick and stone lifts the spirits of shoppers and commuters. Bedding plants are part of the British gardening tradition

– they make Britain bloom – and deserve our support, rather than being sneered at by those who consider them a waste of time and energy.

For me and, I suspect, many gardeners who lead busy lives, my garden has been my salvation. I started my life as a full-time gardener aged 15 and now, at three-scoreyears-and-ten, I am doing so once more. I have come to realise the wisdom of my career choice, and to know that nothing gives me greater joy and fulfilment. If only others could see it that way.

The battle to explain the need for nurseries and garden centres to open has been an uphill struggle, and I feel for many growers who will be unable to withstand the losses