MY GREAT BRITISH GARDEN PARTY
I am sure you’ve seen, in summer, those distinctive yellow posters, tacked to trees, advertising the opening of a private garden that is not normally accessible. What you’re looking at is a garden that has been opened under the National Gardens Scheme, a charity founded in 1927 and which raises about £2.5m a year for good causes.
But, as a garden owner, how do you get involved? And how do you gain entry to the famous NGS Yellow Book, published every February, in which the thousands of openings all over the country are listed? I assumed my tiny London patch would not be good enough for the NGS. I once showed it to a local Islington group in 2011. It was a baking-hot day and mine was the last garden on their tour. They stood and stared. ‘This is very Chelsea,’ one woman snarled, referring to the Flower Show.
So, when some neighbours asked me, in 2012, if I’d be willing to try for the National Gardens Scheme I was not that keen. They’d already had their garden approved but had been told they needed more gardens in the immediate area to achieve the required 45 minutes of interest for visitors. Thus, in that appalling, wet June of 2012, I set to with trowel and secateurs to prepare for the dreaded inspection.
In the event, two very nice women came, one accompanied by her elderly father. There was no ferocious cross-examination. They were pleased with my garden, and my neighbours and I were scheduled to open in 2013 as a group of four small gardens.
Before we knew it, February 2013 had trundled round and the actual Yellow Book was on the doormat, with us in it: Arlington Square Gardens. It said we would open on 16 June 2013, the date we’d chosen because we mostly have roses. As one of my fellow-openers said, ‘There’s no going back now.’
I’d been growing foxgloves from seed since the previous summer. It’s not easy to know exactly what will be in flower between the hours of 2pm and 5.30pm on a particular Sunday afternoon. But I thought the foxgloves would be a certain fallback. Then came the freakish cold spring of 2013. It was around two degrees all through April. May was sunny but cold. My foxgloves were developing huge leaves but no flower spikes. Not good.
There was no sign of any roses either, which were supposed to be the main feature. I wouldn’t say I was having a breakdown, but that date, 16 June, was tolling quietly all the time in the back of my mind.
In the end, as before an exam, I grew fatalistic. I hurtled into the actual opening with all the wrong things in flower, no foxgloves, and two rosebuds almost out. At least there was something to see. The day before, I was busy with cooking (madly, I’d invited people to a scratch lunch beforehand) and clearing junk out of the way for sightliness and convenience of access.
I’d marshalled three friends to help me, one to supervise the queue out in the street, a second to sell tickets in the hall and a third to kettle the visitors in my kitchen before they were at last released into the garden, no more than four or five at a time, where I was doing meet and greet in a rather townie outfit.
I’d envisaged competitive discussion of plant names, both Latin and common, growing conditions and planting schemes, with fellow gardeners keen to get the upper hand.
‘What’s the thinking behind this garden?’ the very first visitor demanded. ‘Well, it’s sort of north-facing,’ I said, floored. That was it. I’d had my chance. He was off.
After that there was a steady stream all afternoon. But they were all so charming and went out of their way to be appreciative. ‘What lovely lilacs!’ they said, gesturing towards alliums, which are in fact ornamental flowering onions. There was a lot of interest in my silver tree. ‘Is it a eucalyptus?’ ‘No, it’s Salix exigua, which I believe means “small”,’ I explained.
One arrival was actually on a run, so jogged on the spot throughout his brief pitstop. Another made the most of the two roses almost in bloom: ‘They smell of Turkish Delight,’ she said. By 5.30pm the last visitor had gone and I sank down with tea and cake. The whole experience had been nothing like as intimidating and far more rewarding than expected.
My friend who had been in charge of the queue in the street said, ‘At last I could use my leadership skills,’ which was a little alarming because he is a very senior civil servant, practically running the country.
The next day, the NGS gave a lavish garden party for owners at the Royal College of Physicians in Regent’s Park. I went with our little Arlington group but we’d already decided to do it all again next year. So now, 8 June 2014, our next opening, looms. In the run-up it’s getting too warm. Will the roses be over by then? If only I could pull on a rope and change the sky. But larkspur and a thing called Ammi, grown from seed especially, should perform.
Do think about opening your own garden, either informally with neighbours or through the NGS. You don’t have to be a horticultural genius. The crucial thing is there must be 45 minutes of interest. Even so, exceptions are made.
Last year we raised £766 for charity and hope to do better this year.
Arlington Square Gardens, London N1, are open on Sunday 8 June 2014, from 2pm to 5.30pm.
National Gardens Scheme: 01483- 211535, www.ngs.org.uk
But, as a garden owner, how do you get involved? And how do you gain entry to the famous NGS Yellow Book, published every February, in which the thousands of openings all over the country are listed? I assumed my tiny London patch would not be good enough for the NGS. I once showed it to a local Islington group in 2011. It was a baking-hot day and mine was the last garden on their tour. They stood and stared. ‘This is very Chelsea,’ one woman snarled, referring to the Flower Show.
So, when some neighbours asked me, in 2012, if I’d be willing to try for the National Gardens Scheme I was not that keen. They’d already had their garden approved but had been told they needed more gardens in the immediate area to achieve the required 45 minutes of interest for visitors. Thus, in that appalling, wet June of 2012, I set to with trowel and secateurs to prepare for the dreaded inspection.
In the event, two very nice women came, one accompanied by her elderly father. There was no ferocious cross-examination. They were pleased with my garden, and my neighbours and I were scheduled to open in 2013 as a group of four small gardens.
Before we knew it, February 2013 had trundled round and the actual Yellow Book was on the doormat, with us in it: Arlington Square Gardens. It said we would open on 16 June 2013, the date we’d chosen because we mostly have roses. As one of my fellow-openers said, ‘There’s no going back now.’
I’d been growing foxgloves from seed since the previous summer. It’s not easy to know exactly what will be in flower between the hours of 2pm and 5.30pm on a particular Sunday afternoon. But I thought the foxgloves would be a certain fallback. Then came the freakish cold spring of 2013. It was around two degrees all through April. May was sunny but cold. My foxgloves were developing huge leaves but no flower spikes. Not good.
There was no sign of any roses either, which were supposed to be the main feature. I wouldn’t say I was having a breakdown, but that date, 16 June, was tolling quietly all the time in the back of my mind.
In the end, as before an exam, I grew fatalistic. I hurtled into the actual opening with all the wrong things in flower, no foxgloves, and two rosebuds almost out. At least there was something to see. The day before, I was busy with cooking (madly, I’d invited people to a scratch lunch beforehand) and clearing junk out of the way for sightliness and convenience of access.
I’d marshalled three friends to help me, one to supervise the queue out in the street, a second to sell tickets in the hall and a third to kettle the visitors in my kitchen before they were at last released into the garden, no more than four or five at a time, where I was doing meet and greet in a rather townie outfit.
I’d envisaged competitive discussion of plant names, both Latin and common, growing conditions and planting schemes, with fellow gardeners keen to get the upper hand.
‘What’s the thinking behind this garden?’ the very first visitor demanded. ‘Well, it’s sort of north-facing,’ I said, floored. That was it. I’d had my chance. He was off.
After that there was a steady stream all afternoon. But they were all so charming and went out of their way to be appreciative. ‘What lovely lilacs!’ they said, gesturing towards alliums, which are in fact ornamental flowering onions. There was a lot of interest in my silver tree. ‘Is it a eucalyptus?’ ‘No, it’s Salix exigua, which I believe means “small”,’ I explained.
One arrival was actually on a run, so jogged on the spot throughout his brief pitstop. Another made the most of the two roses almost in bloom: ‘They smell of Turkish Delight,’ she said. By 5.30pm the last visitor had gone and I sank down with tea and cake. The whole experience had been nothing like as intimidating and far more rewarding than expected.
My friend who had been in charge of the queue in the street said, ‘At last I could use my leadership skills,’ which was a little alarming because he is a very senior civil servant, practically running the country.
The next day, the NGS gave a lavish garden party for owners at the Royal College of Physicians in Regent’s Park. I went with our little Arlington group but we’d already decided to do it all again next year. So now, 8 June 2014, our next opening, looms. In the run-up it’s getting too warm. Will the roses be over by then? If only I could pull on a rope and change the sky. But larkspur and a thing called Ammi, grown from seed especially, should perform.
Do think about opening your own garden, either informally with neighbours or through the NGS. You don’t have to be a horticultural genius. The crucial thing is there must be 45 minutes of interest. Even so, exceptions are made.
Last year we raised £766 for charity and hope to do better this year.
Arlington Square Gardens, London N1, are open on Sunday 8 June 2014, from 2pm to 5.30pm.
National Gardens Scheme: 01483- 211535, www.ngs.org.uk