In the case of our garden, we encounter a local object of interest, where neighbors or other people passing by, stop and admire it. My mother feels so proud, because she devotes much of her spare time in that labor of pure enjoyment. Her garden has its own distinctive phenomenology, in which nature made obedient to her visual norms; roses are in the center of the big gardens, accompanied with other smaller flowers, planted close to the garden frames. In other places in the yard, there are big clay pots that host trees or small pots with colorful flowers.
Every plant has been chosen carefully and has a history. I remember when I brought at home tulip bulbs from a trip to Netherlands; every day we were drinking our coffee at the garden, observing the tulips growing up. It was a kind of conversation with them. We take our garden as an extension of the house, mediating between the constructed environment and the world of nature. This feeds into our core experience of architectural forms and decorations, as the plants and objects in the garden were selected to conquer the space, capture the nature and to present the whole picture as ours. This attempt to match our surroundings to ourselves and ourselves to our surroundings is arguably a human universal!
For my mother, gardening is not just an optional addition to the repertoire of human activities, but the unavoidable consequence of taking life seriously, and becoming truly conscious of her affairs.