Dunham Massey.

          In the Hackett family, you have your mug. My Dad has his mug, my Mum has her mug, my sisters have mugs and they don't even drink tea. We probably have hundreds of mugs and many of them are ceramic works of art but nonetheless I use one mug and it is my mug. Family friends Deri & Peter Fabian gave me mine, a little thumbs up before I left Chester. It's emblazoned with 'Head Gardener' - and I hope to keep it until I am indeed the real deal.

           Always an incredibly fit and intelligent man, Peter was hit hard by a stroke recently. He has a strong spirit and Deri is a rock of support, but of course my confidence in his recovery hasn't stopped him being in my prayers. He had mentioned to me that many moons ago he'd worked at a National Trust place called Dunham Massey - it's a funny old name and so it had stayed in the back of my head. This year, the family & I made the time to visit it.

The name Dunham Massey... it certainly sounds very 'National Trust', rather northern - the sort of place to which you'd take an anorak, and which might have an historic mill. No! How poor my imagination. Dunham Massey is a Georgian hall of romantic and heroic history, and has - I'm delighted to say - fabulous gardens. There is a small mill.

          If there were ever a way to set the tone of a fairytale garden, outer parkland filled with friendly fallow deer fresh from the forests of Disney does it very nicely. Having made our way through the parkland -- via the ice cream parlour - we entered through some old iron gates.
           The gardens offer a generous balance of trees (sometimes specimen trees, but often thickening into woodland), grand shrubs and informal drifts of herbaceous perennials, opening into glades or channels of water. Comparisons could be made to the wild garden at Wisley or the Beth Chatto Gardens, but this feels further along in years. The trees are more mature, creating a sense of a taller and atmospheric garden. Moreover, being a garden from centuries past there are inevitably a few extra curiosities lying in wait for the visitor walking through it. These include moss lawns and a grove of white birches, and to my astonishment a glade of Cardiocrinum giganteum - giant Himalayan lilies. Taking seven years to grow before a sudden eight-foot eruption of white trumpets, they die as soon as they have flowered and set seed. Mastering their cycle to create a display of many flowers in one year is a real feat of horticulture, and a spectacle I shall not forget. Thankfully I had a camera to hand!

          The most exciting feature of all, however, was a walled rose garden. White roses, pink roses, red roses, yellow roses, roses lining the paths, roses climbing the walls, rose tunnels, rose pergolas, roses with alliums, roses with lavender, roses with roses. The array of flowers and fragrances, the hum of bees - good golly Miss Molly. It has that magical sweet shop feel about it, and one half expects Willy Wonka to come skipping through the middle. The high old brick walls enclosing the rose garden from the rest of the world enhance the impact it has in many ways, and yet because there are these formal brick walls, and you are surrounded by roses rather than say chocolates, it retains an elegance despite this overwhelming excitement. Because of this, you walk through the garden rather than skipping, and thus you have the chance to savour every scent and every angle. And how many there are to enjoy!

          Sadly having to leave the rose garden eventually, and walk back past the Cardiocrinum glade, and then beneath the trees and past the deer herds, my family & I all knew we had just been to somewhere very special indeed. What a fantastic place Peter has worked at. We shall have to return soon - we are certainly not done visiting Dunham Massey.

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RHS Hampton Court Palace Flower Show.

          From the moment I was taught that a person could encourage birds & wild animals by planting a tree or making a pond, I knew that at some point in later life I would seek to create a garden of my own. However, I could never have imagined I would ever play any part in the production of an elite show garden, in the glamorous multi-million world of flower shows. Celebrity guests, cream fedoras and cocktails - even as I've started viewing horticulture as a profession as well as a passion, show gardens have seemed as distant from "real life" as the streets of Hollywood or Bond novels. A bit of fun, far far away.

To my own disbelief, then, I can proudly declare that this summer I was invited to take part in the construction of the Witan Investment Trust Global Growth Garden - not a name which rolls of the tongue, but with a lot of promise as one of the larger show gardens on site. Three of us set off toward Hampton Court Palace to join (first-time) designer Jane Bailey and her landscaping crew for the day: senior horticulturist Matt Oliver (he would return for many of the subsequent days), student Josie Rose, and myself. 

Being there during the construction stage was a curious experience, rather like stepping through a looking glass. The noise and busyness of these weeks perfectly equal the show week, yet instead of the hum of a thousand polite conversations in visitors' polished voices, the decibels are made by the raucous yells of landscaping boys, their radios and the reversing beeps of their lorries. In the catering tents, waitresses have to contend with the wolf-whistles of builders and the demands of designers for organic produce - all stood together in the same queue. Obviously the strangest sight of all was of incomplete show-gardens, not yet the immaculate finished articles shown on the nation's televisions. Seeing an actor without their mask or makeup, or a well-loved author's meandering first drafts, must produce a similar sensation. It was very interesting, very surreal, and shattered a few illusions perhaps - not least that these gardens do not pop out of the ground with some fairy dust and the Ground Force brass band. Yet if this was a chance to step behind the scenes of the circus, I'm delighted to say that the beasts were treated well by the ringmaster - Jane was calm and very friendly, and took the time to explain to us over coffee how she was finding it all from her perspective as a new designer (enjoyable but exhausting hours for many weeks away from home). Normally I'd like to write something on what I liked about the design, which was essentially a beautiful concoction of entirely edible plants, but frankly the focus of the day was to get my head down and get stuck in. Anyway, I'm delighted to say it was awarded a silver gilt medal.

For me, it would be ridiculous to give too much of an opinion on whether or not I'd ever go in for show gardens as part of a future career, having worked just one day. However, I know that I fell in love with horticulture for the long-term good it does, for a beauty which may change seasonally but is never lost, and for homeliness. "Even from the heights of splendour, we bounce back and hurry for the latitudes of home", wrote Annie Dillard. Show gardens may be something I'll steer clear of generally, but I know what a privilege it has been to come along for a day and have even a small part in something so special. I'll never look at them quite the same way again.

The first published piece!

          In the same way that every family & home sees good times and bad times, so too does every garden. In recent years many gardens have had to prune back staff numbers to balance their books, and thus the initiative of the RHS to create opportunities with apprenticeships and studentships is to be really celebrated. I’ve been invited to speak on several occasions about my apprenticeship, at school outreach events and fundraising evenings. I wondered whether the RHS would also like me to express my view and appreciation of the apprenticeship in their monthly publication ‘The Garden’. Of course, being one of the top twenty-five biggest magazines in the country, to have anything of mine in its pages would be incredibly exciting - but equally I assumed something of its stature would not be interested or could use someone better for the job. What a lovely surprise it was, then, to have an email from Michelle Housden of the editorial team informing me that they liked the idea! I think it may have come as a surprise to the team at Hyde Hall too - opening the latest issue over their lunches in the mess room, and seeing one of their own in the comment section!

"Coming to the completion of my apprenticeship at RHS Garden Hyde Hall, I know for certain this has been the brightest beginning anyone could ever wish for.

The intention of the scheme is to gradually immerse apprentices into the horticultural environment until they can stand on their own two feet as real gardeners. The first challenge is adjusting to the rhythm and steady pace of work. The three-hundred-and-sixty acres of Hyde Hall require year-round dedication, and give ample cause for activity from eight every morning until four every afternoon, light or dark and rain or shine. It offers an honest picture of gardening life, not to mention an unrivalled chance to appreciate the true cycle of a year. There are far more than four seasons here, but endless waves of colour and interest which individually peak and fade.

                Naturally, the next challenge is to familiarise oneself with the garden’s fantastic array of plants, and the tasks for their care and maintenance. So much within Hyde Hall’s gardens enthrall, and can spark an apprentice’s education. Spending a day each week at a local college also upholds one’s focus, especially with the occasional exam thrown in. However, as with any apprenticeship much also depends on the character of the experienced professional. Their ability to inspire and to lead is essential. Although each horticulturalist at Hyde Hall has a a different personality and a different part of the gardens to call their own, they all show such patience and take time everyday to explain what is happening in their area. I’ve never had a question ignored or unanswered, and the horticulturalists invariably work twice as hard as the students around them. It means I understand what I need to do each day, and feel a drive to support the garden and the team by working as hard as I can.

                Although the success of the apprenticeship can be measured by exams passed and years completed, leaps in confidence and opportunities to actually teach others have been the real milestones for me. I explained annuals, biennials and perennials to a new college student last week, and my mother now prunes out dead, damaged and diseased stems from her roses following her son’s first ever tutorial. Of course, there are still countless things I’m yet to learn which lie ahead - but what a brilliant, welcoming first step into horticulture the RHS apprenticeship has been."

Michelle Hand, my fiancée.

          On a cold grey day several years ago, I was sat in a café with my vicar, the Reverend Graham Shaw. A relatively young man himself, Graham was a little further along the road and far wiser than me - in the perfect position to offer a little life advice over some tea and bacon. The topic of conversation had reached love, whether I was truly happy with what I had at the time, and where my aspirations for love lay. I wondered if perhaps I hadn't taken a serious view until then, for in my mind's eye I couldn't help but recall the scene introducing the Lady Arwen Undómiel into 'The Lord of the Rings'. In she came, on horseback through a woodland's misty light and a choir's voices rising, her hair flowing and her eyes shining. I'd seen it as a boy, and a decade later it was still all I could picture. Graham knew the scene too. I laughed at my immaturity, my foolishness, and expected him to do the same - an man so knowledgeable and capable, with his intelligent voice and intelligent glasses. He didn't laugh. He smiled, but he didn't laugh. "Actually, Josh - I don't think there's anything foolish about wanting something like that." I remember him saying that now as vividly as the scene itself.

          Last March, walking toward me in the very church of the same reverend came Michelle Hand. Over a year she has revealed herself to be the loveliest person I have ever met or ever shall meet, in beauty and in kindness. She endlessly listens and thinks, cares and prays. Whether it is this, or perhaps her long billowing hair and her soft Northern Irish voice, I have been completely enchanted. Tree or flower, I believe that were there a plant in my garden which had her virtues everyone would come from every corner of the world to admire it. Indeed it has been a pleasure to tell her about everything which I had learned in the last three years about gardening, and look forward to sharing all my future horticultural adventures with the finest companion. In return, perhaps this blog shall stray in future from flora into fauna as her passion lies in horses.

The proposal came on Friday the 17th June, the night before Michelle flew for an internship at Virginia Tech - a little of "now or never" about the occasion. Of course, plants were never far away from proceedings. The ring came from wonderful Scottish ringmaker Sarah Brown, unique with "seaforest" details of leaves and berries in the goldwork around the diamonds. As for the setting, it had to be the garden. Doing my best to distract Michelle whilst the evening set in and darkness fell, my mother and sisters silently ran out and lit a trail of lamps and lanterns through the garden leading down to my old pond at the bottom, which they filled with floating candles and surrounded with more lights. Once everything was alight, Mum gave the signal - calling to innocently ask whether Michelle would like me to show her a new iris in flower down by the pond. Michelle said yes, she would - and ten minutes later, she said yes again to a very different question indeed.

She truly is the loveliest blessing in my life, and I thank God that the adventure I initially started writing about shall now be a journey for two, and all the richer for it.