There is nothing quite as clever as a garden of necessity. And, as I am discovering, nothing quite as beautiful as a gardener’s desire to create their own Eden within often daunting constrictions of space, or soil, or weather, or time. A writer I knew took up gardening by moonlight as there was no other time to get away from work and small children. She chose a preponderance of light reflecting and white blooming plants for her night garden. I read once of a garden on the coast of Brittany where the soil was simply gravel, and a constant wind precluded a garden of plants any taller than a rabbit’s ear.
Recently I went to visit a friend who has created, and had to abandon, several gardens around Berkeley. His current garden is contained entirely within a tiny wooden deck off the back porch; it’s mostly succulents and aloes, all the plants are in pots, and two rabbits live underneath it.