Take my genuwine psychololological profiling test and find out which horrible caricature of a gardener you are!
A. It is the end of the gardening day. Where are your tools?
- Cleaned, oiled, sharpened and hung from the correct nail in the shed.
- Oh… somewhere out there. I’ll find them later.
- Parked in the plot near to hand for harvesting emergencies and so the robin can pose on the handle picturesquely.
- The bathroom.
B. Where do your paths go? How do they get there?
- A focal point. Straight with neat edges.
- A path is a journey and the journey is more important than the destination.
- Compost heap. Wellies advisable.
- Nowhere. Awkwardly.
C. What’s in your greenhouse?
- Very clean glass and a sulphur candle.
- Seed packets, catalogues, attempts at cuttings and a pineapple top stuck on some compost.
- Six tonnes of Gardener’s Delight tomatoes.
- Granny and her shotgun.
What’s your favourite style of gardening glove?
- Leather. All the way to the elbow. Nothing quite like the smell of earth and leather.
- I like the feel of the soil so avoid them unless the thorns are over an inch long or there are blighted potatoes involved.
- Lace. Or if I’m quite sure no-one’s looking those rubber coated fabric ones are quite good.
How are your hedges?
- Straight. Damn straight. Got a laser level for last Christmas. Excellent stuff.
- Cloud pruned.
- Native, rambling, with plenty of blackthorn for the six litres of sloe gin I make every autumn.
What’s your favourite gardening task?
- Trimming the topiary. Enormous satisfaction.
- Sowing the seeds of a potential future garden.
- Showing around a new victim, I mean visitor, and watching the confusion on their plebian faces.
- Daily for preference.
- Only the paths through the meadow.
- That’s what goats are for.
- Fake grass. It’s quite convincing these days you know.
What’s your favourite way to relax in the garden?
- Walking the paths with the vicar.
- Lying in the grass and watching the clouds.
- A glass of pea wine while I tie in the beans.
- Scaring the neighbours with an inappropriate bikini.
…mostly 1s. You’re a Gardener From Another Era. You think any garden writer more modern than D.G. Hessayon is useless piffle and actually well before that, it probably all started to go wrong with that Sackville-West woman. Secretly you find the idea of a sumptuous red Tropaelum speciosum trailing over your dark yew hedges rather exciting but you crush the desire as soon as you feel it. Try underplanting the rose borders with decorous perennials and work up from there. But don’t stop wearing the long leather gloves. No reason.
…mostly 2s. Well I say you’re a Dreamer but you’re not the only one. Your garden has ideas, so many of them that it is a little incoherent. But it is very pleasant in a hazy, well meaning kind of way. Punctuation might help a bit. Maybe you can steal a few clipped box balls from the Gardener from Another Era.
…mostly 3s. You’re a Fruit and Nut. If you can’t eat it or ferment it, what’s the point of growing it, honestly? You think Flowerdew’s an amateur. Your garden is certainly very productive but there’s a reason your guests look concerned when you say ‘let’s just pop out and say hello to the chickens before dinner! we can pick up some parsnips on the way back in’ and that’s because they generally need waders and a stick to fend off the goat. Proper paths and confinement for the goat would work wonders.
…mostly 4s. You’re an Avant-Gardener. There’s no hope for you, mate. Just keep on, looks like you’re having fun.