Ageing when one’s a keen gardener
Gardening is hard when you get older, especially if your garden style is best described as controlled chaos. By Grant Douglas.
Growing old can be a pain. Literally. And when you have spent most of your time gardening – professionally and recreationally for more than 60 years – you can end up feeling older than the number on your latest birthday card.
On top of this, when you decide that the style of garden you prefer is the most physically demanding – controlled chaos – it almost verges on downright stupidity.
Getting the balance right between chaos and control requires constant attention, while making it look like it actually requires very little effort.
Too much control and the garden loses its naturalistic feel and too much chaos, and it can be difficult to even get into.
A visitor on a recent garden trail tour told me I had a lot to answer for. “Why is that?” I asked, worried that someone had tripped or caught themselves on something. “God help us, my wife wants a garden like yours,” he replied.
One of the most common comments
I hear is that I probably don’t have to do much weeding since the plants are so close. Wrong. Weeds will grow in any vacant ground no matter how small, and if they are perennial ones, it can be difficult to get them out without getting in among the overplanted plants.
Fortunately, I have been practising tai chi for about 10 years, where I’m learning how to walk softly and deliberately like a cat so that not only can I walk among the plants without stepping on them, but also without tripping and falling.
Unfortunately, tai chi does not help with the issue of thin skin, caused by too many years of sun exposure, leading to many calls for Gaile (the photographer) to pass me a paper towel to mop up the blood from scratched legs and arms.
When the balance falls too far in the direction of chaos, even though the garden is relatively small, Land Search & Rescue has been known to issue warnings that garden visitors should carry locator beacons and supplies.
Even when the garden is in a more controlled state, the paths are strictly single lane with no passing bays, except to step on the garden, and so when there are multiple visitors, it is single file only.
I hope this paints a picture of our garden for you, and so on days when it all seems a bit much, and I decide I need to make some changes as I get older, I visit the different scenarios that would make life easier.
The most extreme one is to shift. Sell up and go somewhere where I can’t repeat what I have done here. The problem with this is that Gaile and I love where we are.
We have a nearly new, small comfortable home in a beautiful location – sea, birds, walks, pleasant neighbours – and we are not ready to give that up, but also realise that we don’t want to get to the stage where we are forced out by issues outside our control and perhaps have decisions made by others. So maybe one day, but not yet – too drastic.
The second option is to get in garden help. Unfortunately I am selfish about our garden. I want to do it! Some people love gardens, but not gardening. I love both.
It’s good for the body and for the soul. For me it relieves a creative itch that needs to be scratched.
Also as soon as you introduce help, the garden ceases to be completely yours.
Almost as severe as shifting is a total revamp. In this scenario, we retain house and location, but we lose the feel of our immediate environment. At the moment when we look out our window, we see light playing among the trees, shrubs, perennials, especially now that we are in autumn.
You don‘t get that from widely placed plants, with large areas of mulch or lawn.
I am rapidly running out of options, but I think I will go with “tweaking” our garden style. Gaile is convinced that “tweaking” just means having a winter project, to keep even busier, and that nothing will change. It is true that that’s what happened last winter.
More trees and shrubs went in to replace the more labour-intensive perennials, but unfortunately the perennials didn’t come out and so the garden became even more crowded.
But this year will be different. I can hear scoffing in the background. No more buying of plants, but it is tempting when, on the way to buy a hose-fitting, you walk through a good nursery area, and the bargain stand is more like rescuing puppies than buying plants.
A thinning out will (I am trying to convince myself and Gaile) happen this winter so that the character of the garden can be maintained while, hopefully, lessening the workload.
I am sure there are plenty of gardeners who can relate to my predicament. I’ll let you know how I get on.