It not only amuses me (simple things) but it is, in fact, very useful to name areas in your garden. "Over there, NO, over THERE," just causes confusion and irritation. If you can say "just by Weed City," it simplifies matters.
Our small cottage garden has been allotted names over the years, usually after events, people, or dead animals. The last is not supposed to be a trigger. Our cottage garden is also the last resting place for the much-loved dogs we have owned over the years. They were buried in their own place of choosing—the spot of grass which they personally selected to keep an eye on the world. So if I say to my partner Nick, "please strim behind Porridge," he knows exactly where to go.
We have the "wedding garden." Not because my daughter was married from the spot, but because the plants and shrubs that decorated the church and the tables were replanted there. The pittosporum bushes that infilled the church windows have formed a fine hedge and thus define the borders of the space. We use this area for our garden dining table, and so we are sheltered from the gaze of cyclists panting up the hill.
The rather grandly named "Hendricks Walk" was constructed after the birth of my grandson. When he could just about totter, he would proudly complete the circuit. The walk is now rather overgrown; indeed, I could rename it "Trip Hazard," but I won’t.
Then there is the "naked sunbathing area." Nick named this one and is also threatening to dismantle it due to lack of use. No one, to my knowledge, has ever been naked up there, and as for sunbathing, I don’t seem to have the patience. It is nice to know that I could if I wanted to. There are two wood loungers, in case two people decide to go for it, or the local nudists take over. I put cushions on the loungers on a hot day and give them a good pat as I walk past.
We have "the rockery," which was not by design. The local builder did not allow for opening the French doors installed for access to the garden. The garden is on rising ground, and by the time we had dug away enough to open the doors and stroll out, we were met by an earth face. This is now covered in plants, mostly ones that have self-seeded. A couple of times a year I brave the face and pull out the excess. I shall probably fall one day, as the local sarsen stones form my platforms. They are not large, and they certainly wobble, as do I. The garden will get me in the end.
Clearly, the larger the space you own, the more important the naming of areas becomes. The aristocracy have all had to name areas on their estates, or you never would have known which maze they were referring to—by "The Long Walk," and suddenly it’s all clear. Vita Sackville-West understood this. Her cries for "Harold! I’m in the Nuttery" would have saved him a route march around the white garden. If "What3words" can define where you are down to three square meters, there is clearly a need to be precise. Names matter. They provide life and property with personality. Houses in the UK have always had names and are much jollier for it. So it is in the garden.
So if you haven’t already, spend the day naming your garden. Meanwhile, I shall stroll up "The Lavender Walk" and do a turn about "Ted." Oh, and let me know your names, as I would love to take a wander around your garden, and I won’t be able to imagine it at all from "over there."
If you know anyone who might like to read a snippet, please pass me on :) Happy gardening.