ART & LITERATURE

The Ethical Gardener

Article By Sahara .

Sept 7, 2026

A garden needn’t be pristine to be beautiful. A seedhead left standing, grass allowed to grow long, moss softening an old path: these small acts of restraint can make space for an entire ecosystem. In his new book, The Ethical Gardener, garden writer Thomas Rutter considers how we can work more gently with the natural world, from building healthier soil and planting for pollinators to conserving water and growing gardens resilient enough for a changing climate. His philosophy begins with small acts and practical choices rather than wholesale transformation.

We spoke to Thomas about loosening our instinct to tidy, why water may be the most valuable thing we can add to a garden, and how a richer, more abundant garden can be better for wildlife and more beautiful to live with.

For someone with an established garden they already love, where is the best place to begin making it more sustainable?

If your garden is perfectly manicured, could you allow one lesser-used corner to become a little wilder? Leave a patch of lawn unmown for a few months, allow a few self-seeded flowers to remain in the cracks of a path, or let the back of a border grow a little looser than the front. You don't have to surrender the whole garden, but with a little less tidying, and suddenly there's room for bees, butterflies, birds and countless other species that will call your garden home, too. 

Is there a misconception that a wildlife-friendly garden has to look messy?

Wildlife-friendly gardening doesn't mean abandoning your garden or letting it become completely overgrown. Of course, leaving nature entirely to its own devices can benefit wildlife, but most of us want gardens that are beautiful as well as biodiverse. You can have clipped yew hedges, neat, swept paths and carefully designed borders while still creating food and shelter for wildlife. It doesn't need to be a huge philosophical transformation, simply leave seedheads standing through winter, choose more nectar-rich flowers instead of closed roses or inaccessible dahlias varieties, or allow one quiet corner to become a little less managed.

How can gardeners make their borders richer for bees, butterflies, and other pollinators without losing colour, structure, or a sense of design?

Variety is everything. The best borders are those that do several jobs at once. Lavender, rosemary and salvias provide scent, structure and nectar. Foxgloves, verbena and fennel add height, movement and seasonal interest whilst also feeding pollinators. Evergreen shrubs and small trees offer shelter and nesting habitat throughout the year. Rather than relying on one or two species, think in layers and mixtures. A border can be beautiful, richly designed and full of native and non-native plants whilst also supporting bees, butterflies and countless other insects. 

What should we be asking of our lawns now? Is there a middle ground between a perfect green carpet and a full meadow?

If you have more space, perhaps convert a strip along a fence or at the back of the garden into a meadow over time. In the book, I discuss establishing wildflower meadows (of any size) and the species I have used. They don't appear overnight, of course, they can take years to establish, but even small patches of annual flower meadow provide valuable food and shelter for insects.

No-dig gardening is much discussed, but what does it actually mean in a real domestic garden?

It simply means interfering as little as possible. Rather than digging compost and organic matter into the ground, you spread it over the surface and let earthworms and microorganisms gradually incorporate it for you. Nature has been building healthy soils this way for millions of years. Just think of a woodland. No ancient woodland worker is out there turning the soil with a fork. Leaves fall, branches decay, worms get to work, and the forest quietly renews itself, year after year. 

Are there common gardening habits that feel tidy or responsible, but actually work against nature?

Over-tidying is probably the biggest one. Clearing every fallen leaf, cutting everything back in autumn, or pulling out every self-seeded plant can remove valuable food and shelter for wildlife. Moss, lichens and even a few weeds growing between paving stones all have a role to play. I would also avoid reaching for the jet washer or chemical patio cleaners. We’re constantly shown before-and-after transformations on social media where every surface is scrubbed, as though that somehow represents a healthier garden. The opposite is true. A little moss, a little ageing, a little untidiness is not neglect. 

How should we think about planting when summers are hotter, rainfall is less predictable, and familiar seasons feel less reliable?

I think we need to become more adaptable as gardeners. Rather than fighting the climate, look for plants that are naturally resilient. You might love delphiniums or moisture-loving hostas, but increasingly they'll demand more water and attention. In The Ethical Gardener, I write about what I affectionately call 'ditch plants' – those wonderfully stubborn species you find thriving along roadsides, in old walls and forgotten corners. Think red valerian, buddleias or mallows. They're survivors. They cope with drought, poor soils and unpredictable weather without complaint. As our climate changes, I think we have a lot to learn from the plants that have quietly get on with it. 

What are the best ways to welcome more birds, bees, butterflies, and beneficial insects into a garden that is still very much used and enjoyed by people?

Plants are, of course, important, but I actually think water is the real game changer. A small wildlife pond is wonderful if you have the space, but even a shallow bird bath, an old stone trough or a bowl of fresh water with a few pebbles for insects to land on can transform a garden. Add a small solar fountain and you'll often find birds, bees and butterflies arriving surprisingly quickly. Pair that with nectar-rich planting and a few shrubs for shelter, and you can create a garden that's just as enjoyable for people as it is for wildlife.

How can natural pest control work when you are genuinely attached to your roses, dahlias, herbs, or vegetables?

Accept that a few nibbled leaves and petals are the price of a healthy, living garden. Rather than reaching for sprays, encourage birds, frogs, hoverflies and ladybirds to do some of the work for you. I'm also a great believer in companion planting, creating plant communities where different species help one another. Strong-smelling alliums, such as chives or onions, can help mask the scent of carrots from carrot root fly, while marigolds are brilliant companions for flowers and vegetables, helping to deter aphids and whiteflies.

For readers who love cutting flowers from the garden, what are the more thoughtful ways to grow, cut, and arrange them?

Choose colours, scents and plants that mean something to you. If you adore sweet peas, fill a pot with them and keep picking them all summer long. The more you cut, the more they flower. I much prefer a few stems in an old bottle or jam jar than an enormous arrangement. It feels more seasonal somehow, and you notice each flower properly. I also have a chapter on seed saving in the book, and I'd always encourage you to leave a few flowers to fade naturally and go to seed. Future you will be grateful for it. 

If every reader did one small thing in their garden this weekend, what would you ask them to do?

At this time of year, during high summer, I'd simply encourage people to slow down and spend time in their garden. Leave the mower in the shed. Keep deadheading and give a drink only to the plants that really need it, but otherwise, just observe. Watch the lazy bees moving between flowers, the hoverflies hanging in the air, the birds dropping in for a drink. 

The Ethical Gardener by Thomas Rutter (Pavilion) is out now.

A little less gardening

Perhaps the most appealing idea in The Ethical Gardener is also the simplest: sometimes the kindest thing we can do is less. Leave the mower in the shed, let the seedheads stand, tolerate the moss between the stones and watch what arrives. Thomas’s approach is rooted in the belief that small acts can make a difference, whether that means a dish of water for passing bees, a patch of longer grass or a few flowers left to set seed.

As summer reaches its fullest point, it is a lovely reminder to resist the urge to constantly improve and simply inhabit the garden for a while. Notice what is flowering, what is feeding, what has found shelter in the places you left alone. A garden shared with the natural world has its own kind of beauty: slightly looser at the edges, alive with movement and never quite finished.

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