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.
Monty DonRead
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.
Interpretation
This quote emphasizes the relationship between people and nature, highlighting that gardens are created by human hands and reflect personal stories.
Monty Don's quote suggests that while nature provides the environment for gardens, it is ultimately people who cultivate and shape them. This indicates that gardens are not just collections of plants, but rather they are expressions of human creativity, experiences, and stories, illustrating the deep connection between humanity and the natural world.
In practice
During a gardening workshop, I quoted Monty Don to emphasize the personal touch in creating a garden.
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.
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 have learnt that gardens are like happiness: you cannot pursue them as an absolute thing or moment.
Wild roses are fairest, and nature a better gardener than art.
Almost any garden, if you see it at just the right moment, can be confused with paradise.
Plant a new Truffula. Treat it with care. Give it clean water. And feed it fresh air.
There was neither horizon, cloud, nor sound; of that pink, spread silence even I had become part, belonging as much to sky as to earth.
It keeps eternal whisperings around desolate shores
Do you love this world? Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath? Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, and softly, and exclaiming of their dearness, fill your arms with the white and pink flowers, with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling, their eagerness to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are nothing, forever?
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