A casualty of tidy agriculture: the bright-blue cornflower used to be common. This squeezed higher yields out of the land to produce vast amounts of – often surplus – food. The length of hedgerow destroyed over the last century could wrap around the planet ten times.Įngine-powered machinery, artificial fertilisers and herbicides became commonplace. As fields got larger, the space available for wildlife diminished. Small family farms gradually gave way to industrial agribusiness. Shifts in agricultural policy after the Second World War dramatically changed the face of the British countryside. But this is dwarfed by farmland, which covers around 70% of the UK. Together, these tidy gardens and immaculate green spaces make up a significant portion of the country. Come summer, and the local rags are filled with residents looking angrily into long vegetation or taking it upon themselves to make their street look “respectable”. Local authorities are often under pressure to keep all grassy areas short. It doesn’t just stop at places for recreation. Yet, urban planners continue to opt for neat parks, citing “public demand”. Green spaces teeming with wildlife can be the most beneficial to our wellbeing. Public areas can be subjected to the very same neighbourly pressures and tend to get managed with the same enthusiasm for neatness. This can be a major barrier to the adoption of wildlife-friendly gardening. We worry others will think we don’t care about where we live, or are struggling to keep on top of daily tasks. Gardens: Britain’s largest nature reserve?Īn uncut lawn can be misinterpreted as laziness or neglect. Messiness is a trait we are reluctant to put on show. We maintain it, just as we tidy the house before visitors stay. Perhaps it’s hardly surprising we are willing to sacrifice our ideals for amicable neighbourly relations.Įven without any prior quarrels, we all have some perceptions of neighbourhood norms.įundamentally, the garden is a very public display. Disagreements over shrubberies have even been known to result in death-threats. But this proximity can generate conflict. We chat over the fence and our children play together on the lawn. Gardens mediate many of our interactions with the people living around us.
So why don’t more people do it? I think the neighbours may have something to answer for. Images: Jean Cuomo/Shutterstock (RF) Tejvan Pettinger/Flickr (CC 2.0)Įmbracing nature means less work, more wildlife and a more interesting garden. I know which I’d rather spend an afternoon in. There’s evidence to suggest higher levels of biodiversity improve our wellbeing and diverse gardens can be more aesthetically pleasing. Yet, messy gardens effortlessly have depth: the understated beauty of flowering “weeds”, a clumsy bumblebee nectaring, the bush crickets’ chorus in the long grass.Īnd it’s not just me. For me these feel unexciting and forlorn. The garden is nothing but an extension of our home and the average Brit spends 114 hours a year getting it ‘just so’.Īll this toil usually results in a manicured green desert. Why are we so hell-bent on tidying our flora and fauna out of existence? What can explain this ubiquitous disorder? The first clue can be found close to home… What would the neighbours think? Gardens, farms, parks, verges, canals, woodland, wasteland. Wildflower patches annihilated with herbicide, autumn leaves purged from lawns, hedges battered into perfect squares, rotting trunks exiled from forests. It amounts to the relentless sterilisation of precious habitats. Dense vegetation can make urban parks unsafe.īut what I’m talking about is different. Long grass can impede visibility at some junctions. Images: Alamy(RF) cjp/Shutterstock (RF) Peter Broster/Flickr (CC 2.0)ĭon’t get me wrong, tidiness can be important. Obsessive Tidiness Disorder (OTD) is everywhere – and it’s choking our wildlife. Every hedge neatly trimmed, every verge carefully mown, every ‘weed’ meticulously eradicated. Why do we do it? It consumes countless hours of our lives.
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