Twelve Wheelbarrows and a Cup of Dandelion Coffee

So here is the JAGS Botany Gardens in numbers, with ours alongside for the inquiry.

1896. The year a teacher and botanist, Lilian Clarke, set the gardens up as a “diverse patchwork of habitats” for pupils to study. Ours was set up in 2019 by a man with a van, as a patchwork of decking.

1.25 acres. The area the club helps restore, after years in which, as the pupil put it, the habitats were “taken over by brambles and weeds”. I have the brambles and weeds. I am missing the restoration.

One robin. Theirs is “feisty” and comes to rummage in the soil for a worm. Ours sits on the fence and watches me rummage, which is a better arrangement for the robin.

Four drinks. Camomile, lemon balm, goosegrass, dandelion. Goosegrass is the sticky one children throw at each other’s jumpers. At JAGS it goes in a cup. In October 2025 two new Year 7s also reported composting in the gardens for geography. I compost for guilt.

Twelve wheelbarrow loads. At Easter 2026 the gardens held their first volunteering day, for parents and alumnae. Pak choi, kale and purple sprouting were planted in rows; there was mulching and willow weaving; and Sally Rendel, the Botany Garden Manager, reported that it took “12 wheelbarrow loads to return the volume of potted-on and pricked-out plants to the greenhouse”. Newt families were encountered, adding “an extra dimension of amusement and joy”.

Our totals for the same weekend. Dandelions removed: 41. Wheelbarrow loads: one, of brambles, to the tip. Newts: none, possibly because of the brambles. Amusement and joy: my husband, watching from the kitchen.

The dandelions were back by Thursday. I have stopped weeding them. I tell visitors the lawn is a drinks menu, and so far nobody has ordered.