It's that time of year when families and friends start asking each other what they would like for Christmas. Cue the Archbishop of Canterbury, to tell us that we should not place too much emphasis on expensive presents. He's right, it's the thought that counts, as we may mutter through gritted teeth when given something utterly inappropriate, like the Christmas a long-deceased relative gave my mother, who never wears scarves, the same identical scarf for the second year running. True thought, of course, lies not in the buying a gift for the sake of it, because you have to give something but don't have a clue what to buy or the energy or nous to find out, but in managing to track down something that will genuinely be appreciated.
I like books, for example, but it's risky for anyone except the Systems Administrator to buy me books on spec, because they don't have regular access to my bookshelves and can't see what books I've already got. And I have a lot of books. There are several ways round this problem, requiring varying degrees of thought and ingenuity. One is simply to ask me what I'd like. Another is to spot something I might like, perhaps recently published to reduce the chances I already have it, and discreetly ask the SA whether I've got it, or whether the SA was planning to buy it for me. A third way is to take a punt, perhaps mentioning that they have the receipt should I need to change it. A classy option not open to everyone would be to buy something overseas or from an obscure museum or gallery that isn't generally available in the UK, and that I am incredibly unlikely to have.
In the plant centre at this time of year we get customers who want to buy special plants as Christmas presents. Sometimes they have clearly discussed it with the intended recipient first, such as the parents who are buying their daughter a plum tree for Christmas, and co-habitees buying for each other are fine, since they share a garden. Other times, I have a lurking suspicion the object of their generosity may secretly not be nearly as delighted as they are supposed to be. Oh, they have a huge garden, the special plant buyers confidently inform me, as they bear away a silver stemmed birch (ultimate height sixty feet) or a large shrub. Even gardens measured in acres generally have their full measure of trees, after a few years, and when they don't, keen gardeners have their own pretty strong ideas about which ones they would like to allocate space to. The cultivated part of our garden runs to a couple of acres (that is using 'cultivated' in a fairly loose sense for parts of it) and I would be struggling to find room for most medium sized shrubs, never mind a large one or a tree. I have a couple of nasty, windy, rooty, problem spaces I need to fill with something that won't immediately die, and that's about it.
Plants that are supposed to have short little lives are safe. I like giving people violas, because they are so pretty, and nobody expects them to last for too long. The gift invites enjoyment in the moment, without making any long term claim for room in their garden. I have a couple of times given peonies, when I thought the recipients had room for one, because they are special plants, that should outlive their new owner, and ask for nothing except to be planted at the correct depth in decent soil, and to be left alone. Keep other things off their crowns and cut off the dead leaves in winter, and that's it. But in general I don't advise giving gardeners plants as presents. Swapping bits of things you've propagated, when they can say yes or no, is another matter. I am the grateful recipient of a tall white lavender and a drought resistant ornamental pea from a gardening friend who is equally pleased with the odd box of eggs. That's different. I could have said if I didn't want them.
If you want to make a keen gardener happy, think about giving them useful stuff. Gardening gloves are a disposable item, when you put in eight hour days hand-weeding. They go at the finger tips. But, and this is where the thought counts, find out their preferred make or brand, and buy them some of those. I favour green rubberised cloth gloves that sell in independent garden centres for around six pounds fifty a pair. Cheaper green gloves are available, but not as good, because the green stains your hands and is incredibly difficult to scrub off, so you have to eat your lunch and spend that evening with digits like an extra from a zombie movie.
White plastic plant labels are brilliant for anyone who does a lot of their own propagating, sows seeds, or pots bulbs. It is a great luxury to be able to label every pot, and not rely on labelling one in the tray, which seems so obvious at the time, and so confusing after you have moved things around in the greenhouse, or had to stand a couple of dry pots in a tray of water to re-moisten them. They are not glamorous, white plastic labels, but will probably prove much more useful than a packet of eight expensive metal or wooden or slate ones, that don't go with any of the pots or mulches or materials in the garden, and end up sitting for years in their unopened packet, unless they are quietly re-gifted as raffle prizes to a gardening club. If someone gave me, say, three hundred four inch long white plastic labels I would be really pleased, but people don't.
Once, when my mother asked what I would like, I said truthfully that I needed some blood, fish and bone, but I didn't get that either, as she exclaimed that she couldn't give her daughter dried blood for her birthday. Soil conditioner is very useful stuff, and most keen gardeners would like to have some more. Again, the thought lies in finding out their preferred brand. If they are an organic gardener, at least when it comes to soil fertility, they don't want an artificial chemical product, while if they have a keen digging dog then they don't want anything containing bone meal. I believe firmly in the almost miraculous properties of liquid seaweed, and would be far more thrilled to receive a big bottle of that than a bottle of port, which we don't drink, but over the years we have received more port than seaweed solution. In fact, we have not been given any seaweed solution at all.
Tools are tricky. Shops set out to lure non-gardeners with pretty, shiny tools with wooden handles, some of which are not strong enough for serious use. Proper gardening tools are often rather utilitarian in appearance, and gardeners tend to have as strong views about their tools as they do about trees. I do my light pruning with a pair of swivel handled Felco secateurs that cost about as much as I'd earn in a day at the plant centre, and are extremely comfortable to use for hours at a stretch. I may smile nicely and say thank you if given an alternative set (folding, or with Liberty print handles), but I won't swap them for the Felcos. On the other hand, if anyone quietly found out the model number of the Felcos and gave me a packet of replacement springs for the correct type, I'd be touched.
Unfortunately, even though all of these things would be appreciated by keen gardeners, and would show true thought and trouble, would-be gift givers don't buy them for Christmas. Between now and Christmas I expect a steady trickle of customers in the plant centre buying special plants, ornamental labels, under-engineered hand trowels and forks, and herb growing sets with too-small pots. That's the way it goes. Some things are socially coded 'Gift' in our society, and some aren't.
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