From Lawn to Bloom: The Making of a Flower Garden No.3

The design was in place. I had the layout, the light, the soil report (questionable, but hopeful). What I didn’t have? A budget to match my botanical ambitions.

Mar 15, 2025

Budget Botany (or How Not to Spend a Fortune)

Fact: most 2-litre perennials in garden centres go for around £10–£15. Multiply that by the square meterage of a doubly-deep double border… and, well, my calculator started crying, swiftly followed by the bank manager slamming the door in my face.

There was no way I could buy everything full-size, in one go. So I did what gardeners do best: I strapped on my resourceful hat. The one that’s seen more garden centre clearance corners than a pair of wellies in February.

I started with what I already had. I walked around the other gardens and rifled through pots, scouting for plants that looked a little glum or rootbound. Anything that needed dividing? Dug up and split. Anything in the wrong spot? Lifted, potted, kept on the back burner while waiting to be rehomed. I call this "garden cannibalism" and it's weirdly satisfying.

Then came the cuttings. Mainly hydrangeas and shrub roses, but anything woody got snipped and shoved into gritty compost with a jovial “What the hell. Might as well”. To my delight, most of them rooted. By the time I was ready to plant, I had 19 free shrubs, including 10 roses. Not bad for a few snips and a heart filled with optimism.

Seeds came next. Cheap, cheerful, and full of promise. For the cost of a few packets and some compost, I raised over 200 herbaceous perennials and grasses. I felt like a garden-gloved wizard. A very tired, slightly compost-covered wizard.

Inside the Potting Shed where I sowed, prepared cuttings, and potted up

Then there were the bulbs. Tulips, muscari, narcissus, alliums, camassia, all affordable in bulk and brilliant for early colour. I shoved them into every available gap like a gardener possessed.

And just when I thought I couldn’t stretch the budget any further, along came a crate filled with 100 baby Hydrangea paniculata from Living Creations, who had asked if I’d trial them in my new borders. I said yes, obviously. Who says no to free hydrangeas? That’s just crazy talk.

planterlust

noun:

an insatiable desire to travel to garden centres and nurseries,
finding new and ingenious excuses to buy more plants.

P.s. I've just made this up but as a real condition (obvs) it should be in the dictionary!

Finally, I became a regular at the “T.L.C.” corner of local garden centres, that neglected little corner where sad, pot-bound plants languish under red £1 price tags, with one leaf in the compost bin and the other writing its will.

Some clearance rack casualties are beyond help, but most just need repotting and a bit of gentle encouragement. Bargains galore! Like a rescue centre for misfits, only leafier.

The key, I found, was to think long-term. Don’t get hung up on instant impact or fleeting fashions. Focus on building a collection of tried-and-tested garden classics, over time, from seed, from swaps, from end-of-season sales, and your garden will fill out beautifully. Eventually. Cheaply.

The original plant list

As planting time drew near, I had amassed hundreds of plants, not including all the bulbs. Below, you can see the plants I started with. Trees and shrubs for height and structure. A soft flowing middle story of herbaceous perennials and grasses. Then a ground-hugging lower story of perennial ground cover and bulbs:

Trees, Shrubs, Climbers:

Prunus (Ornamental cherry), Betula utilis jacquemontii, Pyrus pendula, Shrub Roses**, Hydrangea paniculata***, Viburnum burkwoodii, Rosa ‘Emily Bronte’**, Rosa ‘Mill on the Floss’**, Clematis* (various cultivars picked up in a cheap job lot), Euphorbia characias subsp. wulfenii.

Herbaceous:

Delphinium elatum ‘Faust’*, Verbena bonariensis*, Valeriana officinalis**, Eupatorium purpureum**, Salvia ‘Amistad’, Galega officinalis**, Echinops ritro**, Alchemilla mollis, Digitalis** (Foxgloves), Echinacea purpurea**, Gaura lindheimeri**, Linaria purpurea**, Lupins ‘Band of Noble Series’*, Lupins ‘West Country Lupins’, Stipa tenuissima**, Nepeta ‘Walkers Low’, Perovskia ‘Blue Spires’, Salvia ‘Caradonna’,

Bulbs

Tulips, Narcissus, Muscari, Allium, Camassia.

* TLC Corner | ** From seed or cutting | *** Gifted

Planting Day (and Minor Chaos)

Right. I had the plants. I had the layout. Time to start planting. Rather than dig everything over, I stuck to my beloved no-dig method. Thick overlapping sheets of cardboard to block out the light, topped with a generous mulch of compost.

I made small planting holes where needed, sliced through the turf just enough to settle in the plant’s rootball, and left the crowns proud of the surface so I could mulch around them.

The heavy, alkaline clay layer underneath? Still an issue. The compacted ground? Still there. In the worst spots, I had to use a wrecking bar to punch through. Otherwise, I’d have ended up with miniature plant paddling pools come winter. Not ideal for anything except the infamous duo, Rot and Decay, specialists in root ruin and party tricks involving mould.

As a compromise between purist no-dig and practical reality, I disturbed as little of the soil as possible, but still gave each plant a fighting chance. I even added some mycorrhizal fungi to rootballs, as I planted. Not essential in healthy soil, but mine was more "withered recovering patient" than a glowing picture of health.

And then, magic. It worked. It really worked.

Big Dreams, Bigger Plants

Even in that first summer, things grew. Fast. Bigger than expected. By Year Two? Enormous. Salvia 'Amistad' shot past 2m. Helianthus 'Sheila’s Sunshine' topped 4m. Roses grown from cuttings, like 'Emily Brontë' and 'Mill on the Floss’ were rampant.

It was like a botanical version of The Beanstalk. No golden goose, sadly, but the gardener was thrilled. Judging by the explosion of bees, butterflies, beetles, birds, and all manner of wonderful new garden friends, the wildlife was happy too.

It was proof that when you choose the right plants for your conditions, and treat the soil kindly, they’ll reward you tenfold. Even without fertilisers. Even with challenging ground.

Now, you might be thinking: “Hold on a mo. You said right plants for the conditions, but you planted roses in a dry garden?” Correct. It was a gamble. I used roses grown from cuttings as a trial. I hedged my bets, knowing that roses have deep roots and like to get their feet into clay. The real question was the alkalinity. But all fears were allayed when I saw how healthy and vigorous the growth was.

Of course, there were flops too. Some clematis gave up entirely. A few hydrangeas were overwhelmed by their neighbours. Not everything thrived, and not everything was meant to. It’s survival of the fittest. And remember, I was an inexperienced gardener, clutching at straws despite having nerded up on my plant choices. Some plants sulked so dramatically, I half expected them to demand their own dressing room and a fruit bowl with only green grapes.

But by the end of that first phase, I had four quadrant beds, crisply edged grass paths, and a central green circle. From the terrace steps, you couldn’t even see the side paths, so the borders looked endless. It was neat, intentional, and almost suspiciously well-organised — the kind of tidiness that makes visitors squint and ask, “So… when’s the magazine shoot?”

Evolution, Edits, and the Garden Today

So what happened next? Well… the garden kept growing. And so did I.

By the end of Year Three, we’d pushed the borders all the way to the fences, making them over 6m (nearly 20ft) deep in places. More lessons were learned, more tweaks made, and more plants added.

The grass paths vanished, replaced with gravel edged in cor-ten steel. I added blossoming cherry trees (small in stature but perfectly formed) for height, texture, and a touch of seasonal drama. A few more benches sneaked in too. You can never have too many places to pause with a cuppa and admire your handiwork.

Here’s that aerial again, shot in early spring, so you can see the structure and the size of those borders!

Some plants got the chop. I’m ruthless now. If it flops, sulks, or starts looking sorry for itself, it’s moved or replaced. If something still doesn’t thrive, it goes on the compost heap. There’s no room for passengers. This is a working, living, joy-filled garden, not a botanical care home.

And while the clematis might not have played ball, the climbing and rambling roses took their place, and frankly, stole the show. The border shrub roses flourished. Honestly, they shocked me.

Grown from cuttings in less-than-ideal soil, many are now towering 2m+ (7ft) monsters, dripping in fragrance and blooms. The borders are dense, floriferous, and constantly shifting. The grasses wave. The bees are everywhere. And while I still tweak and tinker (I always will), the core structure now holds.

Final Thoughts…

Looking back, it’s a far cry from that bleak patch of turf with the dogs tearing about. I miss them terribly… but not that lawn. Not any lawn.

The dream was real. It just took time, a lot of cardboard, and a frankly preposterous amount of compost. If it were any more beautiful, I’d have to slap on a higher fence and start charging admission. But for now, it remains mine: chaotic, blooming, and only occasionally judged by passing pigeons.

I hope it sparks something, for adventurous new gardeners or seasoned hands ready for a refresh. This began as a patch barely fit for a dog’s afternoon nap. Now? It’s a beautiful blousy flower-filled triumph. Held together with stubbornness, questionable soil, wheelbarrows of compost, and a fair bit of bloody-minded luck… but a triumph all the same.

Thanks for reminiscing with me. If you'd like to see more, let me know in the comments. I’ve got maps, planting plans, updated plant lists, and maybe even a few before-and-afters tucked away somewhere.

Until then… happy planting 🌿

P.S. Remember: every great garden starts with a daft idea, a sore back, and at least one plant that absolutely refuses to play ball.

Are you hungry for more?

Curious how the garden evolved — the edits, expansions, pruning, planting, and all the glorious trial and error? Fancy a peek at the latest plant list or layout? Let me know in the comments and I’ll get digging!