I just think that gardening is about the future, a slow thing, that is deep and spiritual as well as spiritually rewarding.
Monty DonRead
I have always felt that the best gardens aspired to coppice and that the best woods have all the elements of the very best gardens.
Interpretation
Great gardens should seek to mimic the richness of natural woods, blending cultivation with the wild.
Monty Don's quote reflects the idea that the most beautiful gardens are often those that emulate the natural complexity and diversity found in woodlands. He suggests that a successful garden should not only be a place of cultivation but also incorporate the wild elements that make nature so exquisite, bridging the gap between human design and natural abundance.
In practice
Using this quote in a speech about ecological gardening at a gardening club meeting.
I just think that gardening is about the future, a slow thing, that is deep and spiritual as well as spiritually rewarding.
Sweet peas should smell. Half the point of growing sweet peas is to cut them for the house; they should fill a room with an almost painful olfactory inarticulateness. But most sweet peas smell of nothing. This does not stop them being beautiful, but they are like food with no flavour.
Gardening is inevitably a process of constant, remorseless change. It is the constancy of that process that is so comforting, not any fixed moment.
I use the period between Christmas and New Year to potter about, think and completely change my mindset. In that easy no-man's-land between Boxing Day and New Year, loins are girded and mettle readied. It is time, as we voyagers bid farewell to the old year, to fare forward.
I am always more interested in people than plants. Nature doesn't make gardens, people make gardens. And the story of a garden is always the story of a person.
I have learnt that gardens are like happiness: you cannot pursue them as an absolute thing or moment.
We won't have a society if we destroy the environment.
Then in October, Indian Summer, the air turned so soft, the sunlight so fragile, and each day's loveliness so poignantly doomed that even self-ignorance and restlessness felt like profound states of being, and he just wandered the empty beaches and misty headlands in a state of serene confusion and awe.
This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,--This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
Thousands of tired, nerve-shaken, over-civilized people are beginning to find out that going to the mountains is going home; that wildness is a necessity.
Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.
The stillness of October gold_x000D_ _x000D_ Went out like beauty from a face.
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