Commenting on a post on The Gardenist prompts this one.
The Riot is my playground – nine small beds in a formal layout with totally unstructured planting. It’s the place I plonk the impulsive onesies to see how they grow here. The good ones might become my stock plants once I understand what they do. It’s a place to hide awkward things like the collection of hybrid teas that make horrible garden plants. Or see if growing leeks to flowering will quell my yearning for the giant alliums I see in pictures of gardens on the other side of quarantine…
I can bring home absolutely anything without needing to plan or balance or repeat en masse. It is about being able to adopt every puppy in the pet shop window without worry.
It doesn’t matter if everything clashes – it’s fun (which makes me question why gardening becomes so serious). I wish I had made it when I first set spade here rather than waiting until this year to realise that it was something I desperately needed. I wish a book had told me when I began that the first thing I needed was a place to play – so I am saying it now – every gardener, new or old, needs a riot.