What’s in a Name? Rethinking How We Talk About Gardens and Landscapes

Something I find fascinating about the U.S. is that there doesn’t seem to be a perfect word for what I do. When people ask me what I do for a living and I say “landscaper,” they often assume I focus on lawn care—mowing, edging, fertilizing. If I say “gardener,” they think of vegetable gardening, growing food for the table. Neither of these fully captures the kind of work I do or the way I view landscapes.

In the UK, the language surrounding landscapes and gardens is a little different. There, “gardens” refer to what we might call landscapes—cultivated spaces meant for beauty, relaxation, and connection with nature. Vegetable gardens are just that—vegetable gardens. And lawns? Well, they’re simply lawns. But here in the U.S., “gardens” are often thought of as vegetable patches, and the idea of a garden being an intentional, designed space full of plants, art, and life is less common.

More Than Just "Useful" Plants

I’ve noticed that in American landscaping, there’s a strong emphasis on function—but often in a very utilitarian way. Many people believe that plants should serve a practical purpose: food, medicine, erosion control, or pollinator support. Even some who call themselves gardeners dismiss flowers as “useless” because they don’t directly contribute to food production.

But I believe beauty is a function in itself.

Not everything has to be harvested, pruned into submission, or justified by its usefulness. Some plants exist to be admired—to evoke emotions, spark creativity, and make us feel something. The sound of wind moving through leaves, the scent of flowers after a rain, the way a plant changes with the seasons—these experiences matter. They connect us to nature in ways that go beyond practicality.

The Art of the Garden

To me, the best gardens are those created as art. They are places where human creativity and natural beauty come together—where landscapes aren’t just managed but designed with intention and emotion. These spaces can be healing, peaceful, and deeply personal. A well-designed garden isn’t just an outdoor space; it’s an experience, a refuge, a living piece of art.

When I design landscapes, I think about more than just the placement of plants. I think about how a space will feel. I consider movement, light, sound, and the way different textures interact. I look for ways to create those small, magical moments—where a path turns unexpectedly, where a flower leans just right toward the sun, where the breeze carries the scent of something familiar yet unexpected.

I wish we had a better term for this kind of work in the U.S., but maybe the name isn’t as important as the mindset. If more people thought of gardens as places of artistic expression, of connection, of emotion—maybe we wouldn’t need to explain it so much. Maybe we’d just step into a garden, breathe it in, and understand.