23/05/2026
I’ve lived on my own since I was 18, and even back then my apartment was already full of houseplants.
But in my home, plants were never “alone.” I always planted smaller plants around the larger ones — groundcovers, companions, layered plantings. Even then I kept telling everyone this wasn’t just aesthetically better, but also a far more natural and healthier system. At that time in Hungary, this kind of approach was still very uncommon.
To this day, I still think of my plants as social beings. 🤣
I designed my garden with this philosophy very consciously, and this is one of the reasons Japanese gardens feel so close to me. In authentic Japanese gardens, plants are not treated as isolated decorative objects, but as interconnected living communities. In nature, there are no truly “solitary” plants — everything exists in relationship with its environment.
And this has a very serious ecological and microclimatic role.
Different plant layers reduce soil evaporation, shade each other’s root zones, stabilize temperature and humidity, and create a more resilient environment. Dense groundcovers protect the soil from overheating, slow down moisture loss, and support microbial life within the soil. Together with irrigation, this creates a balanced microclimate within the garden itself.
Plant companionship also has biological advantages:
some plants help retain nutrients,
others improve soil structure,
some provide natural support or shade,
while certain species literally assist each other’s development through microbial interactions around their root systems.
And maybe this is why so much modern landscaping makes me sad.
Too often I see landscapers going to trendy nurseries and buying everything without real thought — because “everything looks good.” Then they hand over gardens that are already doomed the moment they’re finished. Plants with completely different light, water, and soil requirements are forced together with no long-term ecological balance in mind — only an instantly sellable visual effect.
But this is not something you can truly learn from catalogs.
I didn’t know these things in the beginning either. My perspective was shaped through years of failures, lost plants, observation, and experience. I had to learn how plants behave together, where each species truly feels comfortable, and how they react to one another’s presence.
That’s probably why this garden feels alive to me.
It’s not decoration — it’s a small ecosystem working together in harmony.
