Royals, semi-shade and after hours access: Chelsea 2019 highlights

The BBC's official coverage was buzzing with discussions on the year of recycling, the predominance of green and the arrival of the first-ever judged show garden inside the floral marquee. But on the ground at the Chelsea Flower Show this year there was only one topic on everyone's lips: The Duchess of Sussex's garden.

It was not, to be accurate, the Duchess' garden, but rather the RHS' "Back to Nature" garden, designed by Chelsea veterans Adam White and Andree Davies, with royal input. But that didn't matter. To the fans queueing to see it (we waited 45 minutes, at times the wait was reportedly as long as 2 hours) or overheard talking about it, it was "the Duchess' garden" or "the royal garden". Was it worth the wait?

For me, and for most people I overheard: yes. It wasn't my favourite garden of the year, nor did it hold the best plants, but it connected on an emotional level the way few other gardens could. In my case, that's probably because I grew up playing in woodland. The tree swing, the woodland den, the fallen logs and the creek lined with shade-loving plants took me back to the forest in which I spent long childhood summers back in Chesterfield, Missouri. The tree house encrusted with branches to make it look like a bird's next was a particularly fabulous flight of fancy. The garden was also noteworthy for being a space the public can walk through, rather than the usual show garden that you view from the outer edges. Usually, only the media, sponsors and their guests get to walk inside the displays; I expect people would have queued for ages for the privilege even if nobody famous had been involved.

Here are some other highlights.

• The media have proclaimed this "the year of green" because of the amount of foliage on show. The story is more complex. I would have called it the year of the semi-shade garden. Shade, of course, isn't conducive to showy blooms. We saw a lot of impressive trees, spreading their cover over ferns, hostas, astrantias, foxgloves, heucheras and primrose.

• There was still plenty of colour. It was a year of traditional English palettes: gentle blues, purples and pinks contrasted with the occasional pop of yellow or white.

• Every year there seems to be one plant that pops up in profusion across multiple show gardens. This year it was Trollius, aka Globeflower. 

• My favourite garden, and the judges', was the Andy Sturgeon-designed M&G Investments Garden (below). Presumably, when you're the main sponsor of the whole show you can out-gun everyone else on your investment. Certainly, no expense had been spared here as the builders turned a flat space into a forested slope, terraced with massive oak sculptures that had been charred to a deep black. The way the plants and flowers "popped" against that inky background was extraordinary.

• There were fewer jaw-dropping, how-the-hell-did-they-do-that gardens than in previous years, but the Welcome to Yorkshire garden was extraordinary enough to carry that brief. It was an extraordinary feat of construction: a canal, complete with two ancient lock gates leaking in places, water at different levels and a lock-keepers cottage. There's always a debate on whether these things are gardens or stage sets. As impressively naturalistic as the grasses, weeds and plants growing out of seemingly-ancient crevasses in walls were, there wasn't much memorable here as far as flowers and plants go. But full marks, and a gold medal, for creating an illusion.

• Most years a sheik or sovereign wealth fund from the Arabian peninsula sponsors a main show garden for PR purposes. These work best when they bring a taste of the exotic. Dubai's entry this year did not. Aside from its painted earthen walls there wasn't much sense of place, and the planting ... while obviously draught tolerant ... was green and colourful enough to be European. It only dazzled at night, after most visitors have gone.
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• And what was I doing there at night? After more than 20 years of attending Chelsea, I finally scored tickets to some after-hours corporate hospitality. This is the invisible engine that keeps the show going. Corporations (some charities and the rare individual) pay to sponsor the gardens, and can pay more to entertain guests in them for an additional 90 minutes after the public must leave at 8pm. (Though your hospitality tickets let you in from 5:30.) The hour between 7:30 and 8:30 is magical, with unobstructed views and colours becoming more distinct in the twilight. The form is to use this time to see all you can, before turning up on the garden that invited you for drinks, canapés and a short talk from the designer responsible. Our host was the Family Monsters Garden, designed by Alistair Bayford and sponsored by Family Action, a charitable organisation celebrating 150 years of helping families in trouble. The garden was a birch grove, spiralling up a mound with an uneven path and boulders representing the issues all families face. Ultimately the garden leads to a space with benches and a quiet pool, where a family could gather to communicate and be together. This was a garden particularly suited for evening viewing, with the white birch trunks and spires of white foxglove standing out as the day's light faded.

• Almost as exciting as after-hours access was speaking to Kazuyuki Ishihara. The Japanese designer is the only example I can remember of an individual sponsoring his own garden, and he's come from Tokyo every year since 2004, winning 12 gold medals along the way. His trademark stones and boulders covered in moss turn up every year, inevitably with iris, babbling water features and fascinating trees. This year's "Green Switch" garden (below) was no exception, with a glass tea room pavilion on one side and a glass shower room on the other, both overlooking a tiny sylvan paradise. Mr. Ishihara often stands across the path from his garden, alone and un-noticed, as he watches people react. I spent a brief moment telling him how much his gardens inspire me every year and we shared a mutual bow.

• For the regular visitor, Chelsea's glory remains The Great Pavilion, where specialist growers and the nation's most prestigious nurseries come together to show off their wares. In a world where most garden centres are staffed by people who know little about what they sell, this is a chance to get all of your garden problems solved. I usually go with a list of questions, often accompanied by photos of specific issues. I emerged knowing that my geum is infested with whitefly, but cutting it back to the based and watering heavily will probably sort the issue and see the plant spring back from its roots. I understand why my passion flower vine isn't blooming, have the names of better allium varieties to intersperse in my hosta bed (Violet Beauty and Purple Rain) and have scouted out the perfect tulip to plant amongst my forget-me-nots next year (Louvre Orange).

• I emerged with three packets of sweet pea seeds, new gardening gloves and a £5 glass garden ornament. "I never worry about you and Chelsea," said my husband, inspecting my loot. "I know you can't by plants there. Hampton Court's the dangerous one." Quite right, my love. Brace yourself for the 5th of July.