This Week in the Garden
What collapsing planters and climate-change theatre taught me about writing and resilience
It’s my monthly ‘garden-writing’ week and it couldn’t have come at a better time, although I’m not sure if that is the right way to phrase it as it has been a complete nightmare – except for one bright spark. Read on.
Sunday, 27th April
Craig and Dave (builders) are due tomorrow to fix my decking which has some planks lifting, undulating - trip hazard, the works. I was tempted to ignore it, until I started hearing horror stories of various ‘elderly’ (as my grandchildren call us) going to hospital after minor falls and getting awful infections and then dying – it seems prudent to get my decking fixed.
At 6:00am, I’m dragging heavy potted trees to clear the deck (pun intended). Halfway through, I realise this is exactly how people end up in A&E leading to an awful infection etc etc etc. I stop. Let the builders do it.
Later, at a family lunch, I admire their pristine herbaceous border—lush, clipped, precise. Turns out they have a gardener which explains the tightly trimmed curved lawn – not a stray blade of grass impinging anywhere. I am secretly smug about how much more interesting my garden is, with its chaos of pots, tiered decking and planters. It may be messier but it’s all my own creation, and I wouldn’t give up the satisfaction of doing it myself.
Monday, 28th April
Craig and Dave arrive bang on 8:00am (which, frankly, after many years of experience with builders is enough to make a girl’s heart sing). Two cups of builders’ tea later, my heart is definitely not singing. It has, in fact, plummeted through the decking. Following a lot of sucking of teeth and tutting and scratching of heads I am informed that it is a much bigger job than replacing or screwing down a few planks. They tell me the last builders have done a dreadful job. I wonder if it is a version of going to a new hairdresser and the first thing they ask is “where did you last get your hair cut?” in that sadly sympathetic manner.
But I can see for myself. They show me where they have lifted the trip hazard plank to discover a completely rotten frame beneath - I could leave it, they say, but if I do all the decking will rot and I will have to start from scratch. I trust these guys. They have answered SOS calls at mad hours for flood and fire. I give them the go ahead.
Tuesday, 29th April
Craig and Dave, about to become regulars in ‘my life as soap opera’, arrive on time again, bearing a lot of timber, concrete and other assorted, heart sinkingly expensive materials. I momentarily long for a boring, neat herbaceous border with neatly clipped curved lawn. And to be paying a gardener for three hours a week instead of a massive chunk of life savings to build something that no one will ever see because it’s underneath a bloody deck.
That night, my misery was complete when I went to the theatre and my favourite playwright broke my heart. I'd waited six months for this play, booked for the first week of performances as soon as it was announced. I was so looking forward to an evening of pure, unfiltered joy.
Ten minutes in: So many characters had come and gone I had no idea who was who. Thirty minutes in: I was irritated by a wooden kitchen table being moved 6 times for no reason. It was triggering - somehow terribly reminiscent of decking being ripped up. By the interval, I’d had enough. I left.
Wednesday, 30th April
Decking is now a mouldy wasteland. It’s all ripped up, mouldy planks stacked against, and squashing, my clematis that was just blooming for the first time this year. Utterly depressing. Craig and Dave crack on, while I retreat to the agents’ pages to prepare query letters for my novel. One of my dream agents closed to submissions three days ago. Unbelievable. Cheer myself up by thinking that this is now three things:
Life savings on decking
Massive letdown by favourite playwright and
Agent window closed
Given that my book is called The Rule of Three, maybe the universe is syncing up. I try to take it as a good omen.
Wrong.
Craig appears at the door and says those fatal builder words:
“Jenny, could we borrow you for a minute to come and have a look at something?”
Synergy be damned. The wooden planters, which I thought had been looking a little wonky, have actually disintegrated at their base. They are rotten too.
That makes it FOUR. Bad things.
To fix them they have to be emptied - including a beloved rose and fragrant rosemary just coming into verdant Spring growth. Digging them up will probably do for them. Sigh. No. scrub that. Groan.
Things can only get better.
Thursday, 1st May
And they do!
Because today I have been invited to see a matinee of KYOTO and it is stunningly good. The most exciting theatre I have seen since – well, certainly since last Tuesday. Brilliant seats, right in the front, in the interactive heart of the action. I am blown away by the artistry and skill that has been employed in turning the negotiation of the first international treaty on tackling climate change, in Japan in 1997, into a tense and gripping drama. One of the elements that resonates with me the most is an entire scene, played with the precision and excitement of musical theatre, featuring characters arguing over whether a comma should be used instead of a full stop and if the sentence should then be enclosed within square brackets.
It gives me pause (literally and figuratively) or possibly {literally and figuratively} when thinking about my own writing. How important those tiny specks of punctuation are...(like that). And this (!)
Friday, 2nd May
I spend the day digging and transplanting, filling nine builder’s rubble sacks with compost. Try, try, try to find the positive, some analogy that will make it all seem less of a waste of precious creative time, and then it comes to me: this is like editing. You need strong, solid foundations before the beauty can shine. That thought sustains me.
Then I’m off to a weekend of babysitting (different grandchildren from last week’s). These bank holidays don’t stop. My non-plant-based bedding skills come into their own.
Finale
A small joy to end the week: remember Leonie, the garden Workaway turned film student I mentioned in April 20th Post? She’s made a short documentary about me as her final project. Even though she couldn’t make me a TokBook star, I think she did manage to capture something special (pre decking debacle). I’m sharing it with you here.
If you enjoyed reading (and watching) I would so appreciate a ‘like’ or even a donation (the cost of a coffee )or a Subscribe. Every penny goes the National Garden Scheme supporting brilliant nursing charities – like MacMillan and the Hospice movement.
What a marvelous video. Thank you for sharing!
Jenny, as a gardener and writer, I just adored that video. It was completely en pointe and showcased your private space so beautifully.
I was entranced and felt myself slowing right down.
As for gardening - isn't it always a series of cascading events? It teaches one to be accepting if nothing else...
PS: hoping my punctuation is in all the right places, but if not - c'est la vie!