Chelsea Flower Show

 Chelsea Flower Show

In the heart of London's most fashionable and wealthy community, you can almost hear the contented murmurs of landscape gardeners, seasoned pruners of roses and those lifelong green fingered folk who can't get enough of their hallowed patch of grass, green and foliage. It is that time of the year again, folks. After a long, hard and dark winter, the end of May can only mean one thing. And no, it's not the merry month of May maypole dancing or rehearsals for that famous cheese rolling competition that Middle England will relish at some point during the summer.  

No, this week it's the yearly Chelsea Flower Show. Oh for the bountiful and beautiful flora and fauna of the Chelsea Flower Show, that wondrous display of plants, flowers and bushes that send some of us into lyrical raptures. Both the great British public, thousands of tourists and curious spectators from far and wide, converge on Chelsea like avid disciples and followers of our precious nature. They wander around the stunning array of Japanese tea gardens, delightful rockeries, gorgeous shrubberies and always aesthetically pleasing, well tended bushes that leave most of its observers mesmerised.

But we invariably find ourselves drawn to the hardy perennials, the celebrity gardening aficionados such as Monty Don and Alan Titchmarsh, the men who introduced us so proudly to the colourful beauty of the Chelsea Flower Show. Every year we proceed in an orderly fashion before gazing around at the ornamental ponds, the neat and well tended small trees, the herbaceous borders, the lovingly mown grassy areas with their symmetrical lines and the kind of garden adornments we've always loved such as the gnomes that never fail to warm our hearts. 

From a personal point of view my lovely and late mum and dad's garden was always a picture postcard, maternal figure and the grass regularly cut to perfection rather like the barber who takes special care to make sure your hair looks as tidy and impressive as ever. My late mum took particular delight in her beds of roses in our garden and frequently strolled up and down, smiling blissfully at the riot of colour, both yellow and red, purple and one that must have left her feeling completely enchanted. It was called a Blue Moon which was called as such because, presumably, it reminded my mum and dad of a blue Moon, a fusion of vibrant violet and purple. 

But the Chelsea Flower Show reminds us of how grateful we should be for the longevity of nature, its natural tendency to blossom and flourish when summer arrives and the Pimms is nicely chilled. The Chelsea Flower Show is a British national treasure, a cultural institution that remains an enduring symbol of how we both look at and admire nature. Some of this year's floral displays are another a classic example of the time and affectionate devotion we give to every single flower. 

Then there are the private exhibits, the expensive array of exotic plants that are probably worth a considerable amount of money. Britain loves its gardens, feeds and nurtures its growth and development, makes a wonderful fuss about its gardens because the Garden of England is Kent and Kent is synonymous with orchards and oast houses and gardens are our proud and joy. 

So before you set off on your summer holidays or just enjoy the simplicity of your domestic idyll, remember  the people who queue patiently outside and are then rewarded with the full and spectacular array of begonias, laburnums, peonies, sun flowers, more and more azaleas and those hyacinths and hydrangeas which come out to play every day and always make us sigh with admiration. Oh for the glories of the Chelsea Flower Show.