How often do you amble about a public park or visit a private garden when you travel? Whether you're heading overseas on holidays or doing a staycation at home, are parks and gardens high on your list of things to do? While I spend my fair share of time strolling green spaces when researching guidebooks, I hadn't really considered the popularity of garden tourism until the horticultural tourists visited my aunt and uncle's place last weekend. But garden tourism - whether it's visiting historically significant botanical gardens, famous places in gardening history, or parks and gardens that are simply lovely places to while away some time - is huge. And while it isn't new - wandering the gardens of stately homes and palaces and picnicking in parks was a popular activity of the grand tourists who started traipsing around Europe in the 17th and 18th century; and some of those who stayed on were responsible for some of the Italian Lakes' most impressive gardens (more on those in another post) - and garden tourism is growing.

In the UK, garden tourism takes up the largest patch of turf that makes up Britain's leisure economy - about 10 million people per year stroll Britain's 3,000 or so public gardens, while 40 million visit historic properties such as the National Trust and English Heritage houses with gardens. In France, around two million visitors amble around 1,000 gardens each year. Garden touring is popular in New Zealand too where gardens are one of the top 10 attractions and activities of visitors to NZ from the UK, Australia, Japan, US and Germany. In Canada, there are about 140 gardens open to the public, and in March this year the Canadian tourism bodies decided to put the development of garden tourism, garden festivals and garden trails high on their agenda. Research shows that one-quarter of Canadian and American tourists reported having visited gardens on their travels and expressed an interest in doing so on future vacations. So why the growth in garden tourism I'm wondering? Is it a reflection of our interest in all things green and in sustainable tourism? Are we all dying to get back to nature and parks and gardens provide the most accessible options? Or does the rise in reality television and home and garden shows have something to do with it? What do you think?

As the garden tourists strolled my aunt and uncle's grounds last weekend, I began to see the light - well, I'd spent a week reflecting upon dark tourism after all - but I began to see the light reflecting through the trees and shrubs in the garden here in new and different ways. I tried to see them not as a writer or photographer, but simply as someone who appreciates gardens. I started to give some thought to why specific trees might have been planted and why they were located in certain places. I tried to recall how a particular flowering shrub looked when we first arrived a few months ago, how it looked when we were here last year, and how it appeared now. Was it even flowering? Why of course not, because different things flowered at different times of year. So I began to appreciate the arrangement of the garden, and how, while it looked wild and natural, it really was rather cleverly thought-out, the way it directed people here and there, provided places for them to explore, spots for them to sit and reflect. I began to see the flowers themselves. Normally my eyes are mainly drawn to bold colour and unusual textures, but now I began to become intrigued by everything and notice things I hadn't really paid attention to before. I saw perfect flowers which had just freshly opened and were revealing themselves to us in all their youthful beauty for the first time. I spotted sturdy buds about to blossom, and began to wonder when they might make their appearance. I even got a little excited at the prospect. But then I began to think: now the horticultural tourist probably knows exactly what a certain flower will look like when it opens. But surely that would take away the element of surprise? And then it occurred to me: like a film theorist who understands narrative structure and can determine how a movie will end but still enjoys seeing the story unfold, part of the joy of creating a garden and watching everything grow must surely be about seeing how everything comes together and having your satisfactions met? Like travellers who research and plan trips, organizing itineraries, and booking hotels, activities and tours, gardeners must also delight in developing expectations of their garden with the hope of having them met. So then I began to think about the horticultural tourist, and I wondered what their goals were when they set out to visit gardens. What did they hope to gain from moseying around gardens like that of my aunt and uncle's? Was it purely for the aesthetic pleasure or was there something more? What did they think about? And what were their aims when they planned a trip away to see gardens?

I know that gardens can contain secrets (I was a little girl once) but can they tell stories? Can gardens reveal narratives to a person who knows how to read them? Or have I simply been reading too much into the cultivation of gardens and horticultural touring? (You need to read my last post first.) I know that the birch trees in the garden here at Tamara and George’s house are a reminder for my uncle George of our family's Russian heritage and the years he spent in St Petersburg as a young man, studying medicine, falling in love, and discovering Tarkovsky. I am imagine as George strolls his garden – “like the lord of the manor”, Tamara says – that those slender silver-branched trees that rustle moodily in the wind act like an aide-memoire prompting Russian recollections. Or perhaps just impressions. Well, that’s what I’d hope. And I’m sure the many trees, plants and flowers Tamara has planted – all of which Tamara calls “she”, as in “See how beautiful she’s looking!” – must provoke memories for her too. But what about for the strangers who visit gardens, like the horticultural tourists who ambled about here last weekend – does the garden tell them stories too, do you think?

Have you ever been on a garden tour? Last weekend my aunt Tamara threw open the gate to this lovely big old Australian house she and my uncle George have renovated in Eaglehawk on the outskirts of Bendigo in the goldfields region of Victoria. It's the same house where Terry and I have been lucky to spend our time writing up the two Australian books over recent months (and where we finished writing the Cyprus and Italy books while we planned our Australian road trip last year); the same house with the rustic kitchen where Terry does so much cooking in the evenings to keep us sated and sane (the results of which you can see on his blog Wide angles, wine and wanderlust). So Tamara threw open the doors to a horticultural group - most of them quite elderly, some of them a little frail, many of them horticultural judges, all wearing hand-written name tags - so they could tour this splendid garden. She did the same last month, at the request of the president of the Eaglehawk Dahlia and Arts Festival, and she does the same every year. Two tour groups arrived that Saturday, as they did this last weekend - just to stroll the glorious garden here. They admired specific plants, and discussed whether they were 'native' or 'exotic', they appreciated the arrangement of things, pointing at one plant and then another, and they secretly snipped clippings to take home (of course I noticed) where I guess they hoped to achieve similar wondrous results. Tamara had spent a couple of days beforehand giving the garden a general tidy, pulling weeds, watering, and sweeping paths, and that morning we put the sign up the president had provided on display out front. I didn't see the need for a sign as the group were arriving on a bus organized for them. Perhaps it was simply to formalize the event? It was nothing more than an amble about a garden after all. But to the group it was obviously a special day. Tamara didn't do a lot to prepare the garden, as I said. She said they could accept it the way it was. And they did. They absolutely delighted in strolling the garden. And who wouldn't?

And it is an enchanting garden, in the style of those wild, romantic, 18th century, English cottage gardens that inspired the Italians to establish their elaborate, sprawling villa gardens on the Italian Lakes. From the front gate a path meanders up to the porch of the house, a pretty pond on one side that's home to frogs, a fountain and floating waterlilies, and on the other side a shimmery birch forest and beyond that another pond that's home to a handsome white duck called Ferdinand and an ever-expanding school of fish that magically appeared one day (a theory is that birds dropped the fish in on their flight past, but people in these parts always have theories). Another path leads by the side of the house, itself concealed by creeping vines, where there is another small birch forest and everywhere an abundance of greenery. Beyond this a terrace with a big glass table and charming wrought-iron chairs where we occasionally sit together and eat in the sun - generally only when there are guests and not nearly as much as we should. The whole garden is lush and leafy and fragrant, with plenty of places to sit scattered about, a bench here, chairs and tables there, a swinging seat in the corner - all made for sitting back with a glass of something to delight in this gorgeous garden. And of course, we seldom do that either. I remember being a child and playing in my grandparents' gardens, hiding beneath big hollow shrubs I'd turn into cubby houses where I could hold tea parties with my dolls, and I wished then that I'd had a garden like this with its secret spots seemingly created especially for 'hide and seek'. This garden must be heaven for small children. Just as it was to the older garden-lovers last weekend...