The Plants That Don't Give Up

One of the things I've enjoyed most this week hasn't been finding unusual plants. It's been seeing just how determined they are to survive.

Walking around Fuerteventura, it's impossible not to notice how different the landscape is from the one I'm used to at home. The greens of Gloucestershire have been replaced by shades of brown, ochre and volcanic black. Rain is scarce, the sun is relentless, and the wind rarely seems to stop for long. At first glance, it can feel like a harsh place for plants to grow.

Then you start looking a little more closely.

The first thing that strikes me isn't how little is growing, but how perfectly the plants that are here have adapted to their surroundings. They aren't struggling against the landscape. They're part of it. Every leaf, every branch and every root seems to have evolved to cope with conditions that would quickly defeat many of the plants we grow in our own gardens.

I found myself stopping more than once today to look at shrubs that most people would probably walk straight past. They weren't covered in spectacular flowers or dramatic foliage. In fact, some looked rather unremarkable. Yet the longer I looked, the more fascinating they became. These plants have learnt to live with very little water, to tolerate constant sunshine and to survive in soils that appear to offer almost nothing at all.

There's something rather admirable about that.

As gardeners, we often judge plants by how colourful they are, how long they flower or whether they make a statement in the border. Those things certainly have their place, and I wouldn't want gardens to lose their beauty. But this holiday has reminded me that resilience is a beauty in its own right. A plant that quietly thrives where others would fail deserves every bit as much admiration as the showiest rose in full bloom.

It also made me think about the choices we make in our own gardens.

For many years, we've often asked, "What do I want to grow here?" Increasingly, I wonder whether the better question is, "What wants to grow here?" They're similar questions, but they lead us in very different directions. One begins with our wishes. The other begins with understanding the place we're gardening in.

Perhaps that's one of the biggest lessons travelling gives us.

Every landscape has its own rules. Rather than trying to change them, the plants have learnt to work with them. As gardeners, maybe we should be doing the same. The more we understand our own soils, our own climate and our own conditions, the more successful and enjoyable gardening becomes.

I'm sure I'll return home with plenty of photographs, a notebook full of ideas and a list of plants to read more about. But I suspect the most valuable thing I'll bring back isn't a particular species or planting combination.

It's a reminder.

Nature has spent millions of years learning how to adapt.

There's a great deal gardeners can learn simply by paying attention.

Perhaps that's why I never really stop looking at plants, wherever I happen to be in the world.

Not because I'm searching for something exotic.

But because every landscape has a lesson waiting to be discovered, if we're curious enough to notice it.

Marcus

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Marcus Bergin

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