The future of our garden

I was listening to a podcast with Ryan Holiday the other day, and his words really resonated with me when he spoke about having a more mindful appreciation of what our ancestors have given us. He used the example of being in nature and taking a moment to think about who made the decision to plant the trees we see around us. Why did they choose that particular tree? What motivated them to plant it there?

He emphasised the natural evolution of this thought, reminding us that one day we will be those ancestors to our children’s children, and can we say that we are leaving them beauty and nature to enjoy?

What a powerful thought that is! Although we, unlike certain countries, rarely hand down our homes and gardens to the next generation in our families, it will still be passed on—let's assume—to well-meaning individuals who will one day take great pleasure in our gardening and planting decisions. Gardening is never a short-term project, and those who expect instant results often find themselves disappointed, facing failures and costly changes.

This got me thinking about the cost per use of things. In a world dominated by fast fashion, online price matching, and fierce competition, it seems less common to purchase items for their long-term value, quality, and potential impact on future generations. Now don’t get me wrong; I do appreciate quality, but I often don't take the time to fully consider the longevity of my purchases—until it comes to gardening!

When you purchase a new home or visit friends' or family members' gardens, do you ever wonder who made the decision to plant the trees you are now admiring? Bob, who is 93, loves to tell the story of the giant conifer tree at the end of his garden that was no bigger than 10 cm's when he planted it 70 years ago. Now, it stands taller than the house, creating a beautiful natural separation and landscape between him and his neighbours. Many people now enjoy that tree; it’s probably visible from several homes on his street and beyond, providing a natural landscape and view from bedroom windows—and offering privacy too that no doubt adds value to his property.

This heartfelt ramble certainly holds a message I find important in relation to our gardens. I often wish I knew whether the garden I grew up in and adored at my nan and granddad's home is still as wonderful and enchanting now as it was then. It featured a mysterious woodland area, a frog-filled pond, a smelly compost heap, and bountiful blackberry and rhubarb plants. And the enormous Pampas grass, which meant nothing to me and my cousins at the time, was just brilliant for play fighting.

Gardens can evoke memories of childhood far more than our homes; they are spaces for messy play, where memories are made all year round, stimulating all of our senses. From building snowmen to splashing in a paddling pool, all of my childhood memories seemingly unfolded in the garden, surrounded by mature planting, beautifully tended beds, and thoughtful growing patches that my nan always turned into something delicious.

Reflecting on this, I realise that my nan and grandad didn’t plant those woodland trees where we played hide and seek; they were the result of someone else’s good decision—one that made my childhood sweeter and more playful. The enormous Pampas grass was also inherited and cared for by my grandad, but that too was someone else’s choice that we enjoyed immensely. Nor did my dad plant the apple trees in his garden, where we wove our bikes in and out and picked apples when the time was right. Someone else made those decisions, and we certainly enjoyed the fruits of their labour.

Nature has this incredible ability to transport us back in time, but what I took away from Ryan Holiday’s podcast is how crucial it is to look forward just long enough to make us more conscious of the decision we are making right now. The decisions that can and will significantly impact future generations. It’s widely accepted that tree planting plays a vital role in offsetting emissions contributing to global warming, which is a serious reason to act. Still, the joy that nature brings has such a significant, emotive place in history—and in the history we are currently creating too.

Are we conscious enough of that? Are our gardening decisions a true representation of how we would like to be remembered? Are our planting decisions the gifts we'd like to proceed us?

Laura