The garden ideas thief
Magpie tendencies make a better plot

When I think about it, my garden is a tiny patchwork of stolen ideas. The black shed (Derek Jarman’s Dungeness home), the white painted patio wall (a Country Living article about a stunning Victorian greenhouse), my dustbins full of dahlias (Arthur Parkinson’s Pottery Garden and subsequent books), the miscanthus-and-sanguisorba planting combo (Kew Gardens Great Broad Walk Borders). You get the idea. I’m always looking for inspiration, and it doesn’t matter that my garden is low budget and postage-stamp-sized and that my sources are often lofty and beautiful. In fact, if a garden leaves me sick with longing, I give myself a talking to, and then try to work out how I can import a tiny sliver of that beauty into my own orbit instead.

I know that I will never own an Alitex greenhouse (above). I suspect they cost almost as much as my house. Yet I always loiter around the Alitex stand at RHS Chelsea Flower Show, squirrelling away the wonderful ideas for staging and container planting.

So what if I can’t have the dreamy structure - I can grow the scented pelargoniums and make some copper labels, as seen at last year’s Chelsea And I can certainly plant something like this outside my shed…(in fact, I already have!).

As I drool over Sarah Raven’s garden at Perch Hill, much profiled in glossy magazines, I’m plotting my takeaways. There is nothing to stop me lifting Sarah’s colour palette, and whipping up a container of tulips in her style, using Lidl and B&M Stores bulbs.

Not that I’m a complete copy cat. Sometimes I come up with an idea and take a punt on it. Last year, apropos of nothing, I planted an enormous Fritillaria imperialis, having spotted a box of the huge bulbs at a local market. Large plants work well in a small space, so I thought I’d give it a try. A giant thing burst forth in April, smelling oddly of marijuana. It was certainly eye catching. I wasn’t sure if it was too much. Then, that same week, I happened to visit the gardens of Antwerp on a press trip. I was amazed to see these stately orange flowers everywhere, interplanted with tulips. They looked sensational and I felt reassured. This year I have planted even more.
Other fertile ground (sorry!) for ideas-stealing are the RHS show gardens. Of particular interest to me are the balcony gardens at Chelsea, because their bijoux proportions tally with my space. I’m also an unashamed stalker of other people’s lovely front gardens, and sneaky phone pictures are taken for reference. My own slender 1 x 4m slice (below) is based on a cottage that I spotted in a coastal resort in Lincolnshire some years ago. And our reclaimed brick path at the back was yet another steal, this time from a beautiful but tiny garden in the back streets of Cambridge seen on a beautiful spring evening in 2019. I still have that photo stored away somewhere.
Of course, sharing is usually welcomed in the gardening world, whether that is through an envelope of precious seeds, a few cuttings or a hank of divided perennials. I’m sure that nobody really minds that I’m plundering their plot to add a bit of extra magic to mine.
In my wheelbarrow this week
I’ve just returned from the preview of David Hockney’s new exhibition at Serpentine North. David Hockney: A Year in Normandie and some other thoughts about painting has at its centre an enormous frieze, initially painted as a series of 200 works on the artist’s iPad when he was settling into his studio in northern France in 2019. The countryside is depicted through the seasons, from the chilly bareness of the winter landscape, to the burgeoning blossom of spring, the ripeness of summer, harvest and autumn fruits. There is no human presence, other than the occasional garden chair or treehouse, echoing the eerie emptiness of the Covid era when this was created. It was a joyful experience, especially on a sunny day with the wind blowing blossom from the trees in Hyde Park, and the mass planted narcissi holding the light in their trumpets.
After the preview, I walked for miles through the Park, admiring the magnolias and the pink cherry blossom. The Albert Memorial was glistening, a troop of military horses and their riders galloped past at one point, and the river was shining bright. I’ve had a very busy week, and it felt good to stop, look and just appreciate the joy of seeing - which happens to be one of David Hockney’s messages in his new work.
The Kitchen Garden by Dr Toby Musgrove (Phaidon) is a richly photographed volume of some 50 of the world’s finest kitchen gardens. I am fascinated by walled gardens, potagers and scenic vegetable growing, and this celebrates some of the best, from Argentina to the USA, France, Italy, Scandinavia and the UK. The glorious images are accompanied by a history of the kitchen garden and why productive plots are just as important as ornamental ones. There are also six thoughtful essays on topics such as soil nutrition and organic techniques.
The Hedgerow’s Apothecary’s Field Guide to Wildflowers by Christine Iverson (Summersdale) offers recipes, remedies and folklore around wildflowers native to the UK. A portable hardback, it combines photography and illustration. I’m tempted by the recipes, such as Rosebay and Willowherb jam, wild garlic salt and pepper seasoning and the Marjoram and Rose Facial compress (obviously not all at once!).
I’ve been making collages on and off for about five years and the technique particularly lends itself to spring blossom. I enjoy the absorption of snipping, sticking and painting. The perfect antidote to worrying about World War III.
Of course it’s way too cold yet, but I’m eyeing up the High Street’s new season ideas for outdoor living. I’m keen on Sophie Robinson’s bright designs for Dunelm I have a tablecloth from last year’s collection, which creates instant uplift, and there are even more colours and patterns this season. I like to create this effect with vintage textiles: time to shop my cupboards to capture some of those Hockney-esque primary colours.
Next time: A swanky new potting bench, screening plants and raised bed painting.







Yes! Yes! I like to think stolen ideas are just "pre-tested". I also copy Ms Raven's tulip and wallflower combos. And I went to a glorious NHS garden last year and promptly changed all my pots to copy the ones I saw there. Surely imitation is the highest form of flattery?
In the chat in Jo Thompson’s The Garden Mind, your garden came up as an example of how to garden beautifully with pots! You are inspiring others. I love the idea of having pieces of your dream gardens and designs in your own space.