I am pathetically in love with my first garden. And I must be right
in the flowery heartland of the audience which Garden Inspirations is
targeting. I even feel a sickly sense of having been found out by the
editorial, which describes the thirtysomething woman yearning for the
garden of her dreams whose cuttings are of the torn-from-magazines
rather than the horticultural variety.
Most gardening magazines only feed my sense of being overwhelmed with
too much mention of unfamiliar things like seed boxes and green
But Garden Inspirations did hit my g-spot, where g stands for
The practical information was pretty much free from presumptuous jargon
of the ’now make a bechamel sauce’ kind. As well as idiot guide
sidebars, there was a top ten gardening boots test, leaving me without
my usual footwear excuse for not braving the wilds of my 75-foot,
marigold and bindweed infested estate.
That said, there was also plenty of stuff to keep me curled up by the
radiator with a glass of wine and the garden firmly on the other side of
the window. I read a feature on where to buy plants in Paris which will,
I confess, only ever get me as far as my cuttings file.
I feel annoyed that such a predictable formula appeals to me so much:
designery pictures, celebrity, food, news and travel. My main
reservation was the feature writing style. The gardens may be green, but
the writing is inclined to purple prose and I can’t help but think that
some phrases about the history or sociology of the plants and flowers
would be one hundred times better than Mills and Boonesque ramblings
about ’camellias unfurling their sugary symmetries’.