Some things stay with you - the scent of a rose in the evening air, the feel of a book well-read, the quiet wisdom passed down from one pair of hands to another. Gertrude Jekyll and Constance Spry understood this. They knew that gardens, like stories, are not just about beauty; they are about memory, feeling, and the simple joy of making something your own.
As World Book Day approaches, and with International Women’s Day in our thoughts, it feels right to celebrate these women not just for what they planted, but for how they shaped the way we garden. Their styles were different - one meticulous, one free-spirited, but both shared a love of flowers, a belief that a garden should be lived in, and a desire to pass that knowledge on.
Gertrude Jekyll’s hands were always busy. As a young woman, they held paintbrushes, mixing colours, shaping light. When her eyesight faded, she turned to the land, using soil as her canvas and plants as her palette.
She designed gardens as if they were paintings, layering soft pastels against rich, velvety hues, letting colours blend and fade like brushstrokes on a canvas. Her borders were structured but never rigid, full of movement, where one plant melted into the next. She had an instinct for placing roses among perennials, letting their heady fragrance drift through clouds of lavender and catmint, or weave through silver-foliaged shrubs.
Jekyll believed in gardening with the seasons, letting plants grow into themselves rather than forcing perfection. She wrote about it in Wood and Garden (1899), a book that reads as intimately as a diary, filled with observations of the changing months, of quiet details like the way a rose's perfume lingers in the evening air.
She favoured richly scented, old-fashioned roses, the kind that draw you in rather than shout for attention. The Gertrude Jekyll rose (Ausbord), with its deep pink petals and warm, nostalgic fragrance, carries something of her spirit - timeless, deeply felt, never showy but always present.

Where Jekyll was a painter, Constance Spry was a storyteller. She didn’t just arrange flowers, she gave them character, movement, and emotion. Where others saw strict, formal designs, she saw wildness creeping in, roses tumbling over the edge of vases, branches twisting, vegetables mixed with blooms.
Her approach to gardening was just as fearless. She didn’t believe in perfect borders or neat symmetry. Instead, she embraced the unexpected, finding beauty in a forgotten hedgerow rose just as much as in a prized hybrid. She blurred the lines between garden and home, bringing the outdoors inside and making flowers part of everyday life.
Her book Flower Decoration (1934) was more than a guide; it was an invitation to trust your instincts, to let arrangements be loose, natural, and full of feeling. She wanted flowers to look as if they had simply fallen into place, rather than being forced into rigid formality.
The English rose, Constance Spry (Ausfirst) is as bold and full as her character, with large, fragrant blooms that fill the air with a rich, lasting scent. It’s a rose that draws you in, with a softness and warmth that feels comforting, like a garden from your childhood or a familiar memory you can’t quite place.

Jekyll and Spry both understood something simple but powerful: gardens, like words, are meant to be lived with. They are not distant, perfect things; they are there to be touched, gathered, smelt, and remembered.
Their books, like their gardens, are still here for us. A worn, well-thumbed copy of Jekyll’s garden writing, pages softened from years of use. A passage in Spry’s floral books that makes you stop and smile, because suddenly you see something differently. A rose in your own garden, planted long ago, its scent still carrying through the air on a quiet evening.
This World Book Day, and as International Women’s Day approaches, perhaps the best way to honour them is to do what they did, step outside, breathe in the garden, and notice.
Notice the light, the scent, the way roses hold onto memories, just as books do. And maybe, if you feel like it, plant something for the future.