The Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew, in London, are open all year round and draw crowds to see their displays, structures and landscaping. There you can visit a Japanese garden, an orchid house, a giant bee hive and every other imaginable collection of plants. Where to go first? I always go to the Kitchen Garden. It is hard find, as traditional kitchen gardens are, hidden behind tall brick walls. You enter through archways covered in climbing roses and clematis. One long wall is the backdrop for a bed of different salvia (sage) plants that vary in color from purple and white to red and orange. Each type is neatly labeled with a printed sign.
The lavender is in bloom, covering the roots of the pear trees. The apple trees are carefully pruned to stand no more than 4 foot in height, and already laden with fruit. There are peas on poles, flowering herbs and decorative lettuces. Far from being planted in rows, they are allowed free roam of the beds, separated only by a grassy walkway. The result was a cornucopia of color and abundance. I found one bed with a sign:
Bee Nutrition
The crops in this bed are being grown for their flowers. Kew Science will be collecting the flowers and analyzing the nutrient content of the pollen as a food source for bees.
The bed seemed to be growing herbs and vegetables. Interesting that only the flowers would be harvested! This neither fit with my idea of a vegetable garden or a flower garden.
Before I had time to dwell on the true purpose of this garden, I spied another fenced area behind a bank of daisies so thick it became a mound of white. Inside I spied more flowers, and large leafy vegetables all tumbled together. The fence was covered in grape vine, with some raspberries peeking through the gaps. Wild flowers like cornflower and
poppies were allowed to grow where they wished. Here, too, I found colorful sweet-peas growing up makeshift canes tied together with string. On exiting this lovely corner I discovered it was connected to the School of Horticulture, and these were the students' gardens. Imagine this being a school assignment!
A traditional kitchen garden, which grew herbs and fruit for the household, was always enclosed by a high wall. I initially thought this was to protect the more delicate plants from the elements and rabbits. However, it turns out the walls were to hide the garden from the family when they used the formal gardens. Gardeners could continue to work unseen throughout the day, and, this is what really intrigues me, the beds
did not have to appear immaculate or tidy. Wild flowers, and some weeds, were allowed to grow for no reason other than their fresh natural look. Experiments could fail, without anyone knowing. Lettuce and sunflowers were allowed to go to seed, providing a later crop and food for the birds. Flowers could be cut for the table, or simply left to brighten up the beds. Nature was allowed to thrive behind closed walls.
I had to look hard, but I knew I would find nasturtiums in the students' kitchen garden. These flowers are seldom found in formal flower gardens despite their vibrant beauty. They tend to be untidy and break the rules of what makes a showy display. They cannot be cut for arrangements, but the flowers are edible (tasting like radishes) and can
be added to salads. They do not have a strong stem, but tend to climb and clamber over whatever is nearby. If you try to stake them up with a cane, they rebel and grow down, rather than up. This is because they lack tendrils and flop in the breeze. The flowers change color on a single plant, from yellow to orange to red, and quickly seed down to pop up in the wrong places. I love them. I let them do their thing and marvel at their natural way of bringing beauty to unexpected spots. I have stopped trying to cultivate them, I just let them be, and occasionally nibble on their flowers.
One October I visited the kitchen garden of a manor house in southern England. Most of the beds had been cleared for winter, but the
nasturtiums still grew haphazardly around the borders, in their last hurrah. Their straggly flowers, blazing with color, were such a contrast to the carefully tended empty beds. I like to think that I allow nature to delight in my garden, without my interference.
