What’s going on in the garden?

Quite often it feels that the world is changing so fast I don’t quite understand what is happening. Let me explain. This is a story of two gardens.

The first garden is the wonderful RHS Wisley near Woking. I go because it is the most splendid garden, a real oasis of wonder and calm. In addition, the cake in the tea room is probably the best in SE England (with the exception of the Hospice Charity shop in the village of Otford).

So we were at Wisley a couple of weeks ago and it was glorious. The tulips were ablaze, there were blue, (unidentified not bluebells) flowers under the trees which looked a delight and it was so peaceful sitting in the formal gardens with the fountain.

It was mid-week so Wisley was populated by white haired people with sticks all admiring and gasping at the beauty. At the weekend there are more children walking in the woods and having picnics – marvellous. But us old folk have it chiefly to ourselves in the week. It was a peaceful meditation on glory, a drawing closer to an abundant creator.

But then last week we visited Isabella Plantation in Richmond Park – quite a contrast on so many levels. The Plantation is a sort of ‘dell’ a small stream trickles down hill and is surrounded by large rhododendron bushes and then on each side there are fine trees and wooded areas. The rhododendrons were out so there were stunning neon reds, oranges and yellow flowers clashing and contrasting with each other. People come from near and far to see this spectacle.

Those of us belonging to the white hair and stick brigade were rather thin on the ground in this garden. In their place were a young international cohort of over 18s and under 30s. There were crowds and crowds of them – hurriedly rushing up and down the tracks beside the stream stopping to pose for pictures. There was almost a desperation to get the photo taken quickly to move on to a possibly better spot, a more glorious pose. It was not just photography, films were being made with young women in strappy white linen dresses and pig-tails gliding and turning with wide open mouths and eyes in total mock astonishment for the camera.

Most of the nations of Asia were represented with some of the Japanese ladies in beautiful traditional gowns. Some carried what I would call teddy-bears, but which later I learnt were called mascots – but heaven knows why they are carried in the garden. I thought teddy-bears were for bedtime – you see what I mean? What do I know? The world is passing me by, do I need a mascot to take around with me?

Some youngsters pulled behind them small suitcases. This was not because they had stopped off at the gardens on their way to Heathrow, Terminal 4, but because no respectable young woman on Instagram would be seen in a photo shoot wearing the same outfit. So in the bushes were young Chinese women hurriedly changing their clothes.

This was a garden for sure, just like Wisley– a very beautiful one. But I didn’t recognise the responses to it. The old man part of me did wonder if these energetic youngsters saw the beautiful flowers, smelt the sent, wondered at creation or rested in the peace. Or were they just seeing it through their phone view finder, constructing a fiction, imagining the ‘clicks’ and Insta-Envy which most surely these photos will cause? What will they do with the photos and films once they have been flicked passed 1,000 times on tictok? Did they visit the place or did they curate it?

But maybe that is me just being old-school and grumpy. I enjoyed both gardens and I hope these youngsters did as well. I learnt a good deal about the world as it is. But I won’t be taking a suitcase to my next garden visit.

Before signing off I wanted to make a public ‘shout out’ to the young man (probably 25 years old, probably Nigerian) who was going above and beyond at Isabella Plantation when we visited.

What happened is that two beautiful women (they looked amazing) emerged through the rhododendrons chatting chatting chatting – having a lovely time looking for a picnic spot. Some moments later a young man came through the same spot in the hedge but he was carrying two large boxes and pulling a shopping trolley. Obviously he was carrying the picnic. He had carried this burden from the car park three-quarters of a mile away. Sweat lashed off the poor man’s face, his body was aching with the load and he gave me that “man in distress” look – that signal which every man from time to time gives to another man when he is in a crisis and needs some moral backup. It was not a call for help but it was a look which says “see my pain brother”  “I’m trying to impress these women and I’m doing my best but I’m not sure if it will be enough”.

All I could do was to flash back another look which said “brother I feel your pain – total respect” and in that look I also said  “It can’t be too far now to the picnic site and I’m sure your gonna get a Supermalt or something for your trouble”.

So I say to that man now –“well done brother – you did good, you did very good and I hope you got something cold to drink before you carried all that stuff back up the hill”.