Keen gardeners are the last to need reminding that with each season comes nature’s gift of change: a shift in the soil, a breeze from a fresh direction, a demand that space be made by the old to make way for the new. Yet none of this made it any easier to watch Monty Don plant up a new patch of hostas earlier this month and tell his millions of viewers: “This is what gardening is about, connecting you to the soil, the rhythm of the seasons, to life. I’ve been doing this for such a long time now, but the excitement and pleasure never wanes.”
Because, while his contentment in such tasks may be bottomless, Monty is nevertheless hanging up his trowel, at least as far as is concerned. This Friday, after 23 years on the show across two stints, he will sign off. For its longest-running lead presenter and his millions of fans, it really is the end of an era.
The wail of disquiet that greeted this announcement in September is testament to his appeal, but what lies behind it? He has resolutely not moved with the times, his work shirt barely changing since 2003, when he greeted us from Berryfields, exclaiming, “I don’t think I can remember an October with such glorious leaf colour.”
In a world of plastic fantastic, there is so much to admire about him
His enthusiasm never dulled in the intervening years, even as the weather has brought the same challenges to his garden at Longmeadow as it has to the rest of us. After this year’s sun-scorched summer, he agreed, with admirable understatement, “It’s been a difficult year, but as gardeners we’re learning, adapting, shifting.” He despaired when squirrels stripped his sweetcorn, but delighted in the juiciness of his fruit, reminding us, “There have been silver linings and figs are one of them.” When Monty tells us recovery is possible, we believe him.
In a world of plastic fantastic, there is so much to admire about Monty Don: his unflappable manner and confidence in sharing the secrets of his patch; the affectionate language he uses about his plants (as when tending to a bedraggled yew topiary ball, he suggested, “let’s get him to plant hospital”); his openness about his struggles with mental health and the healing power of gardening.
His life is a rich tapestry of failure (losing all his money when his jewellery company collapsed in the 1980s) and great success (as well as television programmes, he has written some
25 books), and all roads have led to the potting shed.
He has the joy of a 43-year marriage, three grandchildren and, of course, his dogs, including his beloved late golden retrievers Nigel and Nellie. The current scene-stealer, Ned, was beside Monty for his farewell video, leaving as a pair under a pear tree.
Long before Monty held our hands through lockdown, when audiences for went through the roof, Messrs Thrower, Hamilton and Titchmarsh had already demonstrated the viewing public’s affection for TV gardeners. I think it’s because we know that, unlike so many others, these “stars” do most of their work away from the cameras. We just happen to catch them mid-flow, and there is nothing lovelier than watching someone do something they love.
There’s no word yet on who the new lead presenter will be, but given the job’s need for authenticity, whoever steps into Monty’s shoes will be a deserving recruit. Meanwhile, last week’s episode saw him planting bulbs “to provide some colour in the months ahead”. We must take his lead and try to embrace the new season. Recovery is possible.