reading: Guild of the Garden Lovers

late February 2023

Some years ago, I was thrilled to become Facebook friends with Anne Wareham, author of The Bad Tempered Gardener (which I blogged about here). She recommended to me the books of garden memoirist Marion Cran, long out of print. I adored them, meant to blog about them, and got too busy to give them their due. I hope to live long enough to revisit that series after we retire and write about how wonderful they are. Like the Minack Chronicles, I cried sentimental tears over Marion Cran. It’s something about finding a kindred spirit who is long gone.

Anne also recommended an old and out of print book which I simply could not find nor could Allan (unless one was willing to spend a lot of money). Suddenly, while trying again, I found it in the public domain on Google, and so can you. It made the perfect reading while waiting for the next Minack book.

Here is the best (partial) image I could find of the original cover, on a copy I could not afford. The author is Constance O’Brien.

And here are my favourite passages and what they made me think about.

I have often thought it would be nice to live in the time of a garden club, with simpatico members who were not wealthy fine ladies. The group herein had modest city gardens.

Like a modern Facebook group, they had questions to answer for prospective members.

And it was interesting to me that great deal of their activity, at the turn of the century, was through written correspondence, so perhaps in the modern world they would have had a social media group, and a very welcoming one indeed. I can think of one gardener I know who perhaps would not be able to answer affirmatively to question one: Laurie Graves, who lives where her garden is covered by winter snow. Although she does post photos of her garden covered in snow, and that’s taking an interest.

That is beautiful and worthy of a sign in my garden!

And this is insightful, about copying designs without deep insight into gardens of another culture, a very modern thought for a book published before 1912. (I have found some copies available to buy online today but haven’t been able to track down the exact publication date.)

Below: Perhaps to some passersby, I am the elderly lady, just as when I was a child I would pass by a beautiful garden whose owner I called “The Nice Lady” because she always spoke kindly to me.

Clearly, the Elderly Lady’s front garden was a gift to the street, or what garden writer Lucy Hardiman calls a garden approach instead of a garden retreat.

Below reminds me of how, in Seattle, people would tell me they walked down my street to the store just to see my parking strip garden.

And here is my front garden from 1988 through 1992. (I think I might have best liked its early incarnation of exuberant annuals):

I had no idea that “the cult of the dead stalk” went back as far as 1912. I am a member of that cult because it is good for bugs and critters.

Constance was not a member of that cult.

One of the Garden Guild members described herbaceous perennials as “plants with souls which come back in spring with new bodies.” And this..

Constance mentions a book called Letters from a Little Garden by a Mrs. Ewing, which I would love to find.

Who among you wants to be a member of the Guild of the Garden Lovers? I certainly do.