Category: PHILOSOPHY OF THE GARDEN

Philosophy of the Garden is the quietest room, but perhaps the most resonant. Here, the garden isn’t a place, but a way of being. The posts in this category ask not just how to plant—but why. What does this all mean? What is a garden, really?

POGLE’S WOOD: THE REWILDING OF A LEGEND

On By PETERIn DESIGN & NARRATIVE, GARDEN JOURNAL, HISTORY & MEMORY, PHILOSOPHY OF THE GARDENLeave a comment

A deeply personal reflection on childhood belief, memory, and the quiet rewilding of a lost garden space known as Pogle’s Wood.

When I was young, everything was black and white — except the Wellingtons were red.

Black-and-white still from Pogle’s Wood showing Mr and Mrs Pogle, Pippin, and Tog outside their tree home with tea set.
Mr and Mrs Pogle, Pippin, and Tog outside their woodland home. Image reproduced with kind permission. © Dragons Friendly Society.

Skipper was a fox terrier, and I belonged to him. If either of us got a biscuit, we ran to a secluded part of the garden and shared it. It was a quiet pact between species, unspoken but absolute.

I was small, and young, and I could read and write, though badly. But I could listen. And I did — every day — with ‘Listen With Mother’ on the wireless: “Now children, march around the room like little soldiers,” and we did, obedient to the voice from the box. Later came ‘Watch With Mother’—before 4pm, always on the old rental black and white television. And one programme in particular held me entirely: The Pogles. Later renamed Pogle’s Wood.

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DESIGNING A SHADE GARDEN BORDER: HOSTAS, FERNS & STUMPERY STRUCTURE IN A NORTH-FACING WOODLAND SPACE

On By PETERIn BORDERS & BEDS, DESIGN & NARRATIVE, GARDEN JOURNAL, PHILOSOPHY OF THE GARDENLeave a comment
The Great North Border viewed from the lower slope, with stone walls, obelisks, and developing planting along the path.

A planting philosophy for the cloistered summit of the Great North Border: structure, shadow, and the poetry of repetition.

There is a hush at the top of the Great North Border.

Down below, roses rise and shout, clematis jostles for grandeur, and paths wind between drama and delight. But up here—up here—something older stirs. The light is green. The ground is dark. And everything is listening.

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THE PEACE LILY FROM TESCO THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING: EVELYN’S STORY

On By PETERIn CHARACTERS & COMPANIONS, HISTORY & MEMORY, PHILOSOPHY OF THE GARDENLeave a comment
Peace lily in a white ceramic pot, standing upright with dark green leaves and a white bloom.

She came from Tesco.

Not a garden centre.
Not an emporium of scented promises and curated moss.
Tesco—between discounted daffodils and a shelf of limp parsley.
Wrapped in silence, in cellophane, in clearance.
She sat in a white ceramic pot. Once £12, now £9.

No one looked twice.
But we did.

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FIXING A WATER BUTT HOSE: THE TALE OF BARRY, TWINE, AND TRIUMPH

On By PETERIn CHARACTERS & COMPANIONS, DESIGN & NARRATIVE, GARDEN JOURNAL, PHILOSOPHY OF THE GARDEN, SEASONAL NOTESLeave a comment
Front view of black water butt connected to a greenhouse, showing the outlet tap and full body profile.

We regret to inform readers that Barry’s initial performance was, by his own admission, a little underwhelming. The connection hose—thin, brittle, barely up to the task — was cruelly split by a jubilee clip in what can only be described as a tragic act of early optimism. Emergency measures were taken: twine was applied, muttered apologies exchanged, dignity somewhat preserved.

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SHADE GARDEN DESIGN: ACT II OF “MY NAME IS RED” WITH ROSA ROSERAIE DE L’HAŸ AND RHEUM TANGUTICUM

On By PETERIn BORDERS & BEDS, CHARACTERS & COMPANIONS, DESIGN & NARRATIVE, PHILOSOPHY OF THE GARDEN3 Comments
A freshly mulched garden border beneath a weathered stone wall, with a young tree on the right.

If Act I of My Name is Red was the border in its prime—bold, declarative, and upright with conviction—then Act II is the hinge between certainty and doubt. This is not a collapse, but a complication. Not an ending, but a reckoning. And like any good second act, it enters not with a shout, but with a shift—music that leans, tilts, sways. The cello opens the curtain this time, not in triumph but in tension: a low thrum of Piazzolla’s ‘Libertango’, not yet reaching its climax, but already circling something unresolved.

It’s worth noting that ‘Libertango’ is more than just ambience. It is also the melodic seed of Grace Jones’s “I’ve Seen That Face Before”—a song of confrontation, disguise, and memory. Here, too, it becomes a leitmotif. A tango between Rheum and Rose. A dialogue without resolution. And like the border, it asks questions but offers no easy answers.

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THE TROPICAL DREAM: DESIGNING A SUMMERHOUSE FOR EXOTIC PLANTS IN A COLD CLIMATE

On By PETERIn DESIGN & NARRATIVE, GARDEN JOURNAL, PHILOSOPHY OF THE GARDENLeave a comment

Not all gardens are planted. Some are held in longing, shaped by memory and softened by the knowledge that they may never fully grow in our soil. This is one such garden.

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WELCOME TO THE CULTIVATED STAGE

On By PETERIn PHILOSOPHY OF THE GARDENLeave a comment

A thread for those who garden not to impress, but to express.

Cluster of yellow, white, and pink lilies in full bloom before a stone wall—an exuberant welcome to the cultivated theatre.

This is a space for gardeners who don’t simply plant—they compose. For those who see the border not as a collection, but as a composition. Here, each planting is a phrase, each bloom a breath. The garden is not a showcase—it’s a story.

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THE MANIFESTO OF CULTIVATED THEATRICS

On By PETERIn PHILOSOPHY OF THE GARDEN2 Comments

A declaration for those who garden with meaning, not just mulch

We are not here to conform.
We are not here to obey.
We are here to curate—to compose—through leaf and bloom, shadow and light.

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