12 July 2004
England's gardening religion may have a convertGardening in England seems to resemble organized religion. Any serious gardener worth her salt knows all of the Latin names for the plants, the time for seed germination and can quote any number of poets about gardening.
And there's one darn garden after another here. The yard isn't called a "yard" or "back yard." Any open space where a plant can grow is called "the garden." And if you don't have a "proper" garden then you just can't possibly fit into the social structure because frankly you wouldn't have much to talk about.
On most summer weekends in small towns there are "open days" for many of the gardens. People work furiously to tidy up their gardens so that on the appointed day loads of people will show up to look around. The town charges an entrance fee of about $5.50. A few gardeners might even sell plant slips they have started from their flowerbeds. All of the money benefits a local charity or the Royal Horticulture Society (http://www.rhs.org.uk).
In June the mother of all garden shows takes place. The Chelsea Flower Show, held on a soccer field in the heart of London is the place where anything worthwhile about gardening takes place ... the style of the gardens, the designers and even the plants set the trend for the coming year.
Every evening for an entire week the local preachers of gardening magically appear on television to walk us ignorant folks through the different Chelsea mini-gardens. Master gardeners who are now celebrities like Alan Titmarsh and Monty Don are the official tour guides. They ooh and awe over huge displays of dahlias or peonies. These grown men look like they are about to cry when they come upon a newly cloned strain of snapdragon.
They even spent about five minutes one evening showing how they learn to pronounce all of those Latin plant names. One of the presenters walked around with the words for plants written on boards. As he walked up to the crowd he asked them how to pronounce the scientific names of different plants. Most of the gardeners in the crowd knew exactly how to say each one. I kept thinking they were just showing off.
This spring we visited the Deanery Garden in Hadleigh. The Deanery is a huge house that sits next to St. Mary's Anglican Church in the heart of the town. On the other side of the Anglo-Saxon cemetery, and behind a tall ancient brick wall we discovered a magical garden full of lush greenery and blooming plants.
The garden sits along the River Brett and provides a two-acre playground for some very lucky gardeners. We saw roses as big as pineapples in purples and blacks. The iris varieties were too numerous to count, and of every possible color combination, including black.
After we made the rounds to look at the entire place we celebrated our 22nd wedding anniversary by having a cup of tea under a huge Plains Tree that must have been planted when the house was built over 300 years ago. As we relaxed we watched three generations of families drinking tea under a similar tree off in the distance. Their small children pushed around an antique wicker baby carriage. The scene looked like something out of a Great Gatsby film.
After our adventures in so many gorgeous gardens I have to confess that my garden here looks pretty pitiful. The piece of ground I have to work with just can't compare to the wonderful place we had in France.
On the other hand the pink and purple fuchsias I planted are massive and each bloom looks like a work of art. The zinnias I started from seed look more like bright orange daisies and with loads of them crammed into a clay pot they make an impressive display at the entrance to the garden gate.
At the end of the day I have to admit that all of this gardening religion is rubbing off on me. At the charity shop I discovered "Plant Names," the Bible for looking up every single plant and their scientific name. I was duty bound to buy this book and begin studying. The next thing you know I'll be speaking Latin...
Annie Warmke lives in Hadleigh, England. She writes a weekly column on life in a small town. Someday in the not too distant future she intends to return to live at her farm near Philo, but for the time being she is a world citizen making friends in small towns wherever she goes. You can contact her at http://www.bluerockstation.com.