There's no accounting for taste, as my mother frequently says, usually when looking at those strangely popular low-crotched trousers that make the young men wearing them look like ducks when they run. The same goes for gardens. I've sat in a scrub-ridden, plastic-toy infested wasteland, to have the happy occupant tell me how much she loves her garden. A recent visitor to my own looked round and said, "You have a lot of work to do," in a tone that definitely made it more of an order than a comment on my life in general.
That's the beauty of gardening, though. It allows free expression. And until 3rd July Furniture Village are offering the chance to garden bloggers to win a prize for expressing themselves in their Great Garden Moments Competition. (If you want to enter, the competition details are here). Just let them know why you love your garden and put up a picture.
I, for instance, love my wild bit. The increase in the numbers of crickets has been noticeable since I let an area of grass grow, and every year I discover something unexpected - garlic mustard burgeoned forth this spring.
But opposite this wild bit is regimentation. Raised beds - properly raised, you understand, none of this six inches off the ground wishy-washy approach - balance the wilderness with short, straight rows of veg. I think of it as yin and yang. Soon I'll be sowing for the later summer harvest - oriental leaves, young carrots and fennel. The latter I've found grows much better when put in later in the year.
Of course, not everyone likes its aniseed tang, but there's no accounting for taste.