There is a dry patch of compacted earth at the bottom of the Rectory garden that I have been meaning to do something about for ages. Flat, solid and grey looking, no life has been able to emerge from its unyielding surface for as long as I can remember. Not even weeds.
It’s never been high up on the to-do list. But the fine weather of late has made me look for an excuse to spend some time outside. And so I have been to the garden centre to buy manure, and I have started to break open the shell of hardened ground and feed it with sweet smelling, life giving fibre. It’s a strangely satisfying thing to do. Hands filthy, I’m feeding the dead earth with biological energy in order to return it to life.
A few miles from here, over the river, the Chelsea Flower Show is in full bloom. I have been a couple of times, but it’s become a bit too corporate: this year’s Gold Winners include the Morgan Stanley garden and the M&G Investments garden – M&G also being the sponsors of the whole event. And at £107, ticket prices are steep. I think I’ll stick with B&Q rather than M&G.
I also find that the themed gardens at Chelsea strain a little too much for social relevance. The pictures of the CAMFED Campaign for Female Education garden did indeed look splendidly colourful, recreating a Zimbabwean schoolyard in the heart of SW3. But it struck me as more of a sermon than a garden.
Of course, there is nothing at all wrong with a sermon on the subject of women and education in Africa. Far from it. And I also do think that gardens have long been places of moral edification. But there is a crucial and telling difference between the way our own gardens work on us morally and the sort of moral instruction that is being offered by a themed garden in SW3.
In the morally-themed garden, the flowers and planting are being used to illustrate a moral concern, like a poster or a promotional film might. But the really important moral point of gardens is not that attractive flowers and planting are used to illustrate some important wider cause, but that the very act of being in a garden – tending to it, playing in it, eating in it, weeding, watering, walking about in it – all contribute to our moral formation. And a roped-off, do-not-touch garden in Chelsea just cannot achieve that.
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