Peter Dowdall: Garden design is more about editing than creating, so observe what it needs

'There’s a reason Japanese gardens are popular. Their sense of calm starts not with a spade, but with time spent simply looking'

Your garden's colour can bring joy in summer but its other characteristics, including texture, are also important for year-round interest, says Peter Dowdall. File picture

All too often, we get completely engrossed in colour. And it’s understandable. Who doesn’t love the riot of blooms in May, June and July, when the garden is bursting with life and everything feels fresh and full of promise? But in our enthusiasm for flower colour, it’s easy to lose sight of something more fundamental, the actual design of the garden.

Colour is fleeting. It comes and goes with the seasons, often vanishing overnight in the face of wind or rain. What remains, though, are the bones of the garden, its structure, its textures and its more subtle touches.

One of the lessons I’ve learned over the years is the importance of observing before acting. There’s a reason why Japanese gardens are so popular; there’s a calm, reflective tone that runs through the best Japanese garden design, and it begins not with a spade or a plant list, but with time spent simply looking.

Colour is fleeting. It comes and goes with the seasons.

Watching how the light moves across the garden throughout the day, noticing how the wind flows through it, listening to the way it sounds, these are all part of the design process. It’s an approach that will pay you many dividends in the long run.

Let’s not forget what gardens are all about, relaxing and just “being” so go out into the garden, don’t pull a weed or clip a plant, just sit for a while, really take it in. What draws your eye? Where do you feel comfortable? Are there parts of the garden that feel awkward or underused?

When you stop thinking in terms of colours and start thinking in terms of space and experience, you begin to see the garden differently. You see the relationships between shapes and heights, between open areas and more enclosed ones. You start to understand how structure supports everything else.

Colour, as glorious as it is, is temporary. A garden will never be as colourful in December and January as it is in high summer, but that doesn’t mean it can’t still be interesting. A good garden should hold your attention all year round, even in its quietest moments, and it’s in winter, when the flowers have all but disappeared, that the importance of texture, structure, and positioning comes into its own.

Look at how a gnarled tree trunk catches the low winter light, or how a clump of ornamental grass sways in the wind or stands solid, frozen by frost. Notice the curve of a path, the shape of a shrub, or the contrast between a smooth stone and a bed of moss. 

These are the things that stay with us through the seasons, quietly doing their work in the background while the more show-off elements take their turn in the spotlight at different times

Incorporating interest into a garden doesn’t always mean adding more. Sometimes it means removing what’s unnecessary so that what remains has space to breathe. Empty areas are sometimes as important as the planted ones. They allow the eye to rest and give a sense of calm.

Again, this is something that Japanese gardens do so well. Their use of empty space, their appreciation of ageing and imperfection, and their commitment to balance and subtlety all come from a place of deep observation and respect for the natural world.

If you’re thinking about making changes to your garden, or even just wondering why certain parts feel off or uninspiring, try taking a different approach. Instead of planning your next trip to the garden centre with flower colour in mind, go out into the garden with a cup of tea and a notebook.

Walk around. Sit in different spots. Look at the garden from the inside of the house as well as from the garden path. Ask yourself what works and what doesn’t, not in terms of colour, but in terms of flow, style and feeling.

This act of slowing down and observing is something I’ve had to remind myself of over and over again. I love plants, and I love the bold impact of seasonal flowers, but I also know that without structure, those moments are too brief to carry the garden alone. 

When you start thinking in terms of structure, form, texture, and then colour on top, everything begins to settle into place.

In many ways, designing a garden is more about editing than creating. The elements are already there: the light, the soil, the wind, the existing plants. Our job is to notice them, understand them, and work with them gently and as the Japanese approach teaches us, doing less, but doing it thoughtfully, often leads to more.

So, before you plant another tray of petunias or dash to the shop for something in full bloom, take a moment. What is your garden telling you? What does it need? What does it already have that you haven’t quite noticed yet?

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