There’s a front garden I pass that always stops me in my tracks. It contains grasses, erigeron, a large silver birch and a water trough. Large clumps of rosemary spill onto the pavement. It doesn’t have railings, a wall or hedge. It feels like a garden its owners see in the same way wildlife might – space for everyone.
I have many favourite plants in front gardens across London: a gnarled, leggy Fuchsia ‘Hawkshead’ spilling over a low wall in Camberwell; a monkey puzzle tree monopolising a tiny space in Hackney; and a waterfall of Rosa banksiae ‘Lutea’ in Islington are just a few.
Front gardens occupy a lovely hinterland between private and public
I want to see into everyone’s front gardens. They can disclose so much about the gardener while also contributing to the making of a community (human and non-human) and a better natural ecosystem.
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I like gardens that don’t treat nature as something owned, fenced-off or overcome; they have a generosity of spirit. Homogeneous, dense, clipped privet hedges surrounding a small patch have the opposite effect. They are akin to ‘keep off the grass’ signs. Removing these boundaries can take some bravery but letting go could give us back so much.
The thing about walls, hedges and fences is that they don’t really keep anything out. You can always find a way in if you want to. Just watch the squirrels. I’m not suggesting everyone removes their front garden boundaries, but if we could look at these green spaces, metaphorically, as boundary-less and plant them for everyone to enjoy, they can go some way to mitigating the harshness of the surrounding hardstanding of urban environments.
Front gardens occupy a lovely hinterland between private and public, and each constitutes its own ecosystem. Together they create one scattered, complex garden that’s open and free for everybody to see. These small green patches are arguably the most important spaces in urban environments that we can control, and how we choose to plant or pave over them impacts wildlife, flooding and pollution.
I like gardens that don’t treat nature as something owned, fenced-off or overcome; they have a generosity of spirit.
The differences between them mean greater biodiversity: a sunny, bare lawn with some weeds provides nesting for bees, food for caterpillars and a dust bath for sparrows; the floriferous, gardened space next door is full of pollen; and the shrubbery three gardens along is perfect for a whole host of wildlife.
What if our streets were more like allotments? Some might be Instagram-perfect, while others might have a falling-down shed, be overflowing with wildflowers, have regimented rows or more buddleja than beetroot. Front gardens are perfect for a spot of drama and celebrating different tastes – a tiny meadow or an oversized topiary bear can give as much pleasure to passers-by as to the occupants.
According to RHS research from 2016, more than five million front gardens in the UK (about a third of the total) now have no plants, and four and a half million front gardens (one in four) are completely paved over. We know urbanisation is responsible for the loss of global biodiversity, but this is not irreversible. Urbanisation can also help in reversing this loss significantly.
A good example is Ros Ball of the Front Garden Flower Farm, a cut-flower grower who uses underused front gardens in southeast London to grow her stock. These gardens allow her a bigger space and give all species of residence a place to enjoy. But there is also reciprocal trust. It’s a barter system: the gardens are looked after, neighbours get to know each other and a community is built. It’s a generous ecosystem.
I was discussing a possible front-garden project with clients recently and we agreed to get rid of the existing high evergreen hedge, as well as lowering the front wall, and make a gravel garden for everyone to enjoy.
Initially they had been unsure of losing their boundary, but then embraced the idea and even took it a step further, suggesting that we incorporate a small seat into the wall as a stopping place. I hope we can make this happen, and discover how it impacts the other front gardens on their street.
If you are struggling for inspiration, Candida Lycett Green’s iconic documentary The Front Garden is available to watch online. It’s a love song to the art and craft of domestic gardening. As one of the gardeners in the film says: “People always seem as if they’re looking for something, and really it’s at the end of their nose.