I enjoy reading, it’s one of those pastimes where a good book can help provide a bit of escapism at bedtime or expand the mind on a particular subject, it won’t surprise you that gardening is mine with a fine collection of books developing on the shelves at home. Mrs C often rolls her eyes when a familiar shaped package comes through the letter box asking when I’ll have time to read yet another book, and I marvel at her ability to spot a new addition to my library that I thought I’d managed to sneak in covertly whilst she was out at work!

            Lots of these are reference books like the Hillier Guide to Trees and Shrubs with information on hundreds of plants that make me wish I had the room to grow every one, manuals on the correct methods on how to prune each then books on the tales of the plant hunters who introduced them to our gardens. All that essential knowledge to ensure I’m practising my craft to the best of my abilities.

            Then there’s the monthly gardening magazines that I enjoy reading during my breaks with a soothing brew, like The English Garden, titled after the style of gardening and featuring visits to gardens around the world, giving me ideas and inspiration for my own. The Kitchen Garden keeps me right on what I should be doing in my fruit and veg plot and finally, journals from the various groups and societies I’m in that keep me up to date with the good and the bad in the plant world.

            Even I must admit that Mrs C has a point that sometimes there isn’t enough hours in the day to keep on top of all this reading, but let’s just keep that confession between you and I.

            Then we have the modern day of sourcing information through podcasts, short and sharp programmes that we can basically just listen to, when we are on the go.

            The Garden Collective is one I’ve got into, a group of the UK’s well-known gardeners regularly contributing articles on pretty much whatever takes their fancy. An email drops into your inbox daily with the latest offerings where the other day amongst the likes of James Alexander-Sinclair telling us about the joy of a Landscaper’s Dog and Alan Titchmarsh about him rediscovering his love for Pines, was an article by five of the collectives writers and their tales on spring bulbs.

            Being the time of year we start compiling bulb orders for creating colourful displays in late winter and spring 2027, it was unsurprising that an article on the topic of spring flowering bulbs would appear promptly when into September. I see my garden space as a place to unwind and escape some of the world’s troubles and although I’m always keen to learn from what I read and listen to, at the same time its nice for everything to be not so serious which is what I got from this article.

            Whilst from one gardener I sympathised with their stubbornness trying to grow Tulipa sprengeri, a species Tulip that can naturalise in your garden IF it has the right spot, I also broke the peace of my garden when I laughed loudly at the tale of another who worked for a particularly rude client that never had the courtesy to say please or thank you and was terrible at paying the bills. After deciding they would not be returning to work there the following spring, carried out the final job instruction to plant 1000 glorious daffodils and duly did so in the form of a resignation notice, written on the main lawn compiling of only two words!

            That article did make me recall a bulb tale of my own when working in a well-respected garden during my younger years. Within the large team of gardeners we had a Thursday night club where anyone who wished would go out for a few refreshing beers to of course, discuss all things gardening. There was only one rule, you had to make your work the next morning. The club didn’t last very long and was disbanded after one Friday morning we were given the task of planting around a pond a selection of choice botanicals which included rare Lily bulbs that came with the specific instructions to do so carefully as were very precious.

            I think you can see where this story is headed and feel empathy with our horror when our small team when trying to find the bulbs that had been placed into position by our supervisor who headed off trusting us to get on with the job, saw the basket they had arrived in floating on the surface of the water. Thankfully the story had a happy ending with the said Lily bulbs being found perched precariously on the edge of the bed being planted immediately so could come to no more harm.

            Today as I go through the catalogues making my order I always shudder at this memory when I reach the Lily section, always choosing at least one to plant in my garden as a guilty reminder of my lucky escape.