Some Jobs Are Bigger Than the Garden | Marcus Bergin's Garden Notebook
Marcus Bergin reflects on why overgrown gardens often tell a much deeper story, and why being a gardener is about more than simply maintaining plants.
GARDEN STORIES
Marcus Bergin
5/8/20242 min read
Some Jobs Are Bigger Than the Garden
Over the years, I've learnt that people don't always call a gardener because they need help with the weeds.
The job looked fairly straightforward when I first arrived.
The lawn had become long, the borders had almost disappeared beneath nettles and brambles, and a hedge had long since decided it wanted to grow whichever way it pleased. On paper, it was exactly the sort of work I'd done hundreds of times before.
But gardens rarely tell the whole story.
As we chatted, it became clear that the garden hadn't been neglected out of neglect. Quite the opposite. They loved it. They simply hadn't been able to keep up with it.
Life had got in the way.
Sometimes it's illness.
Sometimes it's caring for a loved one.
Sometimes it's work becoming overwhelming, or children needing every spare moment of your time. Whatever the reason, the garden quietly slips down the list of priorities until one day you look out of the window and hardly recognise it anymore.
I've seen that more times than I can count.
It's one of the reasons I never judge an overgrown garden.
You never know the story behind it.
People often apologise when I arrive. They tell me they should have done more, that they're embarrassed by how things have got. I always try to reassure them that they're not the first person to feel that way, and they certainly won't be the last.
Because what they're seeing is a list of jobs.
I'm seeing a possibility.
One of the nicest parts of my work isn't finishing a border or mowing a lawn.
It's seeing the look on someone's face when they realise they can enjoy their garden again.
Sometimes it's surprisingly emotional.
A customer opens the back door, looks across the garden and smiles in a way they perhaps haven't done for months. They tell me they've been avoiding looking outside because it has become a reminder of everything they haven't managed to do.
Now they're talking about where they'll sit with a cup of tea.
Or where the grandchildren can play.
Or what they'd like to plant next spring.
The conversation changes completely.
That's when I remember that this job has never really been about cutting grass or pruning shrubs.
Those are simply the tools.
The real work is helping people reconnect with a place that's often meant far more to them than they realised.
Gardens have a quiet way of looking after us.
They don't ask for much. A little time, a little patience and the occasional helping hand. In return, they give us somewhere to breathe, somewhere to think, and somewhere to leave the worries of the day behind, if only for a little while.
Perhaps that's why I still feel privileged every time someone invites me through their garden gate.
They're not just asking me to tidy a border or cut a hedge.
They're trusting me with a small part of their life.
I never forget that.
And I hope I never do.
Marcus
