🫀 The underrated power of waiting to see

What we can learn about living from the wild gardens of Sarah Price

Sarah Price’s¹ gardens are loose and tousled.

Grasses scribble under casual trees; sandy peach paths are rimmed with cupped green leaves, stems raised to the sun in a mingling crowd of purple flower stalks. There’s a seat near a tree towards the back if you’d like to stay.

She was an artist before she became a gardener. First a painter and then performance, but the art world felt confining. She said she needed to walk. She needed to see the view.

Her first job in gardening was at Hampton Court² — a step away from the white gallery walls, but mowing diamonds into Henry the 8th’s tightly manicured palace lawns left little room for wandering. She almost gave the whole thing up when a garden design course educated her in the cultivation of rich clients instead of rich landscapes.³

She speaks softly, steadily. Sometimes she forgets to use words entirely and starts scooping her hands to cut the shape of a tree branch from the air or patting the tops of a stand of tall, invisible grass. The whole …