A Garden Journey down Memory Lane

This is a very personal journey of childhood garden memories that traverse the past, the present and into the unknown future. And this journey down memory lane is why I love the heritage aspect of gardening; tangible links to the past that become portals of stories told through heritage plants and gardens.

Sometimes this type of story telling is visible and marked for current generations to visit and enjoy, such as our Botanical Gardens here in New South Wales. Hyde Park in Sydney is one such place of significance, providing a verdant canopy and carpet for daily visitors, commuters and residents alike. While this expansive green space holds memories of rare visits during my childhood, it is the garden of my grandfather that sparked my love of heritage gardens and the stories they carry from one generation to the next.

Migrating from Scotland as a young man in the years just before World War 1, my grandfather brought with him a love of gardening and plants that reminded him of home in Fifeshire. Although he loved the blue-green canopy of the Australian landscape that surrounded his humble cottage, his small garden reflected the gardens of his youth.

As a child I have memories of playing in a garden hedged with what seemed to be huge shrubs that provided a safe place to hide in, covered in pink or white flowers. I learned much later that these were Camellias and Azaleas, the varieties of which have long been lost to family memory. Huge sky blue flowers smothered the stone steps leading off from a small closed-in verandah and the front lawn was always starred with multi-coloured freesias every Spring.

However, one part of this magical childhood garden was beyond my small child comprehension. Along the front fence rambled a huge vine that was inexplicably covered in huge purple panicles of flowers; flowers that were not grapes for eating, but only flowers for admiring. Clearly I had not reached the age of seeing beauty purely for the joy it brought. This would come later as my cache of garden memories expanded.

Looking back now, I believe my Grandfather's love of filling his garden with precious treasures were a memorial to my Grandmother, who had died too young. I am forever grateful for these garden memories that provided a tangible link to the grandmother I would never meet. In turn, my Grandfather's garden would provide a profoundly tangible link to my future grandchildren; a link I could not contemplate as a small child.

This childhood garden was the seed that nurtured my love of gardening later in life with glimpses infiltrating my busy adult life, such as: a pretty cottage garden sparking a half remembered memory of childhood games, a deliciously perfumed rose giving a moment of reprieve, or a beautiful landscape stopping time for a moment.

And now in our own humble little cottage, here in the Hunter, I was delighted to discover that our front fence too is covered with swathes of purple in Spring, planted by an earlier owner of this property. And like my Grandfather, I too am planting bulbs to stud the lawn with little sparks of joy in Spring. How grateful I am that my own grandchildren now accompany me in planting treasures in our garden and enjoying magical moments that hopefully will fill their memories with beauty and a love of gardening.

So I am forever grateful to the gardeners that have gone before and laid down seed that sprouts treasures for future generations to enjoy - and that bring moments of reprieve and delight to this generation that link into the future.

I'd love to hear of your garden memories and how they bring joy to your every-day life.

Enjoy,

Lillian xx