‘Constant reward. Constant dissatisfaction.’
So says a note I took on my mobile phone, while up in the mountains behind Antibes, searching for wild peonies with James Basson and his partner, Helena.
We were talking about the fact that no great garden ever emerged out of, or was sustained by, complacency, and that the owners of the best gardens I know live in a state of constant dissatisfaction. But it’s a state that is tempered by, and far more than compensated for with, constant reward.
The more I think about it, the less contradictory or paradoxical, that feels. It must be the same with anyone who achieves at a high level in virtually any field of endeavour. That in the achievement, or alongside the achievement, and even on the pathway toward achievement, there’s great rewards. But a conviction that there’s more yet to achieve, and that one can do better still, is essential to ongoing achievement.
There are parts of my garden that I love, and times of year when I look at them and think ‘that’s the best bit of planting I’ve ever done in my life’ (and often have to tell people that, in case they overlook its brilliance). But I’m never not thinking about how that planting could be better still.
It’s constant reward. And constant dissatisfaction. In some kind of high-tensile balance.
Now I could easily have dreamt up a segue from that to our tours, but I’ve refrained, as I hate the thought that you’d think that all that was about tours, or leading to tours. It’s wasn’t. It’s just the kind of stuff I ponder.
But I’ve got to tell you about our tours. In November we’re taking a group to NZ, but we’re hitting the North Island, for the first time (click here for more details). I’ve often said that NZ is more like another planet than another country, and we’re not pretending for a minute that the incredible gardens on this tour are directly relatable to where you garden. But I’m a firm believer in the transferability of principles. And sometimes it’s fun to be, or we need to be, shocked or surprised right out of our normal world in order to learn something entirely new. And that’s part of the joy of a tour with Travelling Masterclasses (along with the incredible food, the unforgettable locations, and the fabulous travelling companions). We’re forever discussing, on the coach and in the gardens, what we’re seeing, what we’re loving, and what we’re learning. We often have total beginners on our tours, sometimes a few non-gardeners, and regularly attract hugely accomplished home gardeners and designers.
And for a week or so, we’re sharing a learning curve! It’s a hugely stimulating environment, and I’m addicted!
Have a great week of reward. And itching dissatisfaction.
Michael