Alan Titchmarsh: gardens lift the spirits at any age

Spring has arrived in an enthusiastic rush. These sunny days of gentle warmth that encourage the bursting open of green shoots, fresh-washed by hitherto seemingly endless rains, seem to shine and sparkle as bright as any diamond. The sky is the colour of forget-me-nots, primroses are erupting from hedge-banks and cowslips from chalk downland. A blackbird is sitting on three eggs in the yew tree outside my window and the whole world seems full of promise.

I notice all this because I spend a lot of time outside. I am a gardener. It is a profession that, for the past 50 years, has inspired, enriched and stimulated me in equal measure. I cannot boast of a university education or an impressively high IQ (at least, I assume that is the case, but then I have never taken the trouble to have it tested). I am reasonably bright but not profoundly intellectual, and in spite of the fact that I am only a fortnight away from drawing my so-called “old-age pension”, I do not feel particularly wise or especially learned. But what I hope I have accrued over the years is a reasonable amount of common sense.

An understanding of the natural world that surrounds us, and a hands-on involvement with it, goes a long way towards helping anyone maintain a sense of proportion. It has also given rise within me to a degree of responsibility for its well-being, as well as offering a sense of wonder, joy and fulfilment at being involved with the “real” world.

That’s what comes of being a gardener. But then, according to some, as reported by Michael Buerk this week, gardening is something “old people do”. Jeremy Clarkson described it as “a pointless way of passing the time until you die”. How any apparently bright people could be so wrong beats me. Even that professor of classics Mary Beard, for whom I have a considerable amount of time, said that she felt that there was more to getting old than growing geraniums.

Right. Let’s get this straight. For some, gardening is about growing geraniums, planting hanging baskets and tending window boxes; in the same way that for some, driving a car is about getting into a Ford Focus and going down to the shops. There is nothing wrong with any of these pursuits if that is what gives pleasure to those who undertake them. But for others, “gardening” is not a sedentary pastime, it is an energising involvement with the world that surrounds us. It is about sowing wild-flower meadows, planting trees, encouraging bees and butterflies and breeding new plants that will feed a growing population.

It is about creating environments large and small that foster a knowledge of the way the planet works; it is about the construction of living bridges across the Thames, of helping to prevent the extinction of species and of cleansing the very atmosphere that fast cars are doing their best to make unbreathable. Gardens and open spaces lift the spirits, broaden the mind, heighten the senses and even thrill, every bit as much as the transitory roar of a Ferrari that is burning up fossil fuel and giving three middle-aged men an expensive kick that lasts but a few minutes.

The greatest sadness, to me, is that we are presiding over a generation whose lives are lived on computer screens, whose tweets are the nearest they come to human – let alone wildlife – contact.

Today, thanks to the internet, we can all live a life of total insularity and, what’s more, of instant gratification. Where is the joy to be had in anticipation? Gone with the wind – and the exhaust fumes.

The young need to be brought into contact with the real and living world, not as a penance, but as a way of realising that this is, indeed, reality, rather than the nightly news of doom, gloom and tragedy that is the human overlay that masks from view the natural world – a world that, according to those same news programmes, is going to the dogs on account of climate change and global warming. How I wish that the doom-mongers would take off their suits, get out there and plant a tree or sow a wild-flower meadow.

Yes, we live on a volatile planet, but then we always have – there were warm tropical periods in between the umpteen ice ages millions of years ago and they were nothing to do with us. We weren’t even here. Do you ever hear them mentioned? Never.

I do not dispute climate change, and we are doubtless exacerbating the problem with our assorted activities and emissions. But we need to encourage the younger generation to participate in the here and now as well as worrying about a future that they will never see.

Schools can ensure that children are given access to nature – in a corner of the school playground if nothing else – and trained to understand what they see: the emergence of a caddisfly larva, the growth of a broad bean seed, the harvesting of a small but fresh crop of tomatoes or lettuces. New life occurs every day, but without an understanding of it then that very life is threatened. Ignorance of nature and a lack of interest in plants and animals is a far greater threat to all forms of life than global warming. Growing things goes a long way towards promoting that understanding and creating an empathy with the living world.

It is not something that is simply the province of the old and the “waiting to die”. Gardening – growing things – is at the sharp end of conservation and stewardship of the wider landscape. It is about life, not death. It is about the future, not about the past, and the sooner the likes of Clarkson and Beard appreciate that and stop tarring it – and those of us who practise it – with the same brush as playing dominoes and bowls, crocheting bedspreads and making patchwork quilts, the better for us and for the planet.

I have a very fast car and I enjoy driving it, but when push comes to shove, roaring down the motorway can’t hold a candle to a day sitting by the side of a stream watching the activities of birds and insects, plants and flowers and then going home and gardening – an activity that actually makes a difference to the world in which we live, as well as keeping alive in me those vital senses of wonder, proportion, fulfilment and well-being. So there.