A warm welcome
Are you sitting comfortably? Then we'll begin.
Once upon a time in 2014, there lived a Victorian house in London on the precipice of a new adventure. A characterful brick building with original fireplaces, decorative plasterwork and tiled floors — long held together by almost-fixes, old paint, and hope.
And attached to the house was a garden. A very modest-sized garden by any other standard, but a “pretty decent“ size garden for London. The grass was overgrown, there were - frankly - way too many plants with spikes, and it sat in the perpetual shade of the neighbouring unchecked Leylandii trees. The raised beds were causing damp to the kitchen walls, and only the wasps could enjoy the small weeping cherry tree sitting slap-bang in the middle of the lawn. But it was still so exciting.
And so, enter; the building’s new residents — a young(ish) couple who adored the house, took a nervous leap, and over the years renewed it sympathetically, turning it into a much-beloved family home.
The End.
Just kidding.
But this is a familiar tale. Like so many doer-uppers, the outside spaces were the last to get any loving attention, given that they often become the dumping grounds during renovation works. After the building crew have left, then time, motivation and money run out. Life happens (and oh boy, can it happen).
And so, dear reader, the gardens sat and waited patiently as they often do. Compacted and lumpy; full of weeds that JUST.WOULD.NOT.QUIT, builders’ rubble and broken glass, bits of plastic, chunks of concrete and various metal-based health hazards. A veritable quagmire in wet winters.
In despair, new turf was laid with helping hands from friends. It looked nice! For a few years the grass remained, and some shrubs appeared gradually and without much thought as to where or why. BBQs were held and sunbathing was enjoyed, bugs were eyeballed, snowmen were rolled up, and tiny little humans ran squealing in circles for hours.
Sounds lovely, really, and it was, though the overall result still felt a bit uninspiring to me personally. Still, it was a lovely green rectangle with some newly selected modern comforts that suited us just fine at that point.
All change
It wasn’t even the p-word (p******c) that ignited the gardening fervour, that common line of motivation that appeared for so many. It was always there. I’m certain however that it added fuel to the fire.
My name is Jenny, and I’m the owner of this small but lovely urban garden in London, UK. A designer-slash-generalist by trade. I’ve had zero formal horticultural training, though I’d dabbled over the years prior whenever time allowed; I’ve optimistically stuffed a 1m x 2m rented balcony full of potted plants and trellises, grown blackberries above a main road, always had a plant on my desk at work. I too caught the Philodendron bug when it swept across social media, and worked - honestly - perhaps a bit too hard to keep my Strings of Pearls alive inside the house (with, shall we say, mixed results).
But this new earthy patch teased so many opportunities. And I’d established enough aesthetic roots over the years that they had me looking at that lumpy green rectangle out the back every day a little more unenthusiastically.
So in 2021, the focus shifted from the inside to the outside and things really started to happen. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, but I had a go anyway. Once the obsession started, I found myself disappearing without a moment’s notice into the foliage (as my family will certainly confirm). And four years later, here I am writing about it.
This online space is a peek into the abundant delights of urban gardening and the joyride of the learning curve. An invitation into my own London garden and what I’m doing there, and a celebration of the green in-between, bringing us slivers of peace and delight during the usual hustle and bustle of city living.
I’ll be showing you garden projects that I’m involved in, at home, in the community and elsewhere, and hopefully providing you with some inspiration too.
Welcome to verdurban.
