Letters to garden makers

Dear reader, I have a tempestuous relationship with the garden - sometimes I am head over heels in love, other times it causes me to despair. When the garden - (or is it my mood?) appears ragged and moth eaten I don't even want to see it. Recently we had 5 days of almost continuous drizzle which weighted down the branches of the trees and shrubs, flattened the quaking grass into a tangled mat and caused a claustrophobic effect - as though the garden was closing in around me. Then the sun returned; so yesterday I got out the ladders, the shears, secateurs, loppers and hedge trimmer and started to reshape the garden - bringing back some definition. I also very nearly reshaped myself by falling off the ladder and almost piercing my thigh with the shears. It gives me a great sense of satisfaction sculpting this space - it very much feels like I am making an artwork - I feel the same internal dialogue going on between hand, soul and eye when I make a painting. Sometimes

Dear reader, I used to write these letters to Monty Don, and I still find his contrasting views on gardens very interesting even if a little confusing. He seems to dislike artifice yet he 'loves' Chelsea. This kind of seemingly contradictory mix is probably found in us all - we perhaps go with the tide of opinion, we get swept up in the glory and glamour of show gardens (which those of us who are financially challenged could never achieve) - and then we are brought down to earth by the reality of our own plots. But what I've also come to realise is that I see my garden differently to others - that my view of my little world is not the same as other peoples view of that world - they see order where I see relaxed - they see weeds where I see food plants for caterpillars - they see too much work where I see .... OK yes I see work too! Why am I rambling like this ? Well as you may be aware the garden was open this last weekend for the www.ngs.