In the Garden with: Butter Wakefield
West London garden designer Butter Wakefield is known for creating spaces that feel as joyful as they are considered: lush city plots that manage to be both romantic and deeply liveable. Her own garden, tucked behind a handsome townhouse in Shepherd’s Bush, offers a masterclass in what’s possible when space is tight but ideas run wild.
From leafy cloisters in Chiswick to plant-filled terraces in Bath, we’ve long admired the power of gardens - no matter their size - to transport us. Recently, we spent a breezy afternoon in Butter’s own West London garden, a place where trellises tangle with jasmine, birds dip into shallow water bowls, and a gentle hum of bees rises from the urban meadow at its heart. It’s a love letter to space well used - and a lesson in how romance and realism can coexist.
Butter’s journey into garden design wasn’t a straight line but a gentle drift - one that began indoors. “I was working at Colfax and Fowler before I had children,” she explains, “but after my second baby, I knew I needed more control over my time.” Gardening had always been in her blood: her grandfather’s English-style borders, her mother’s presidency of the local garden club back home in the States. “It felt like a seamless transition, from interior to exterior.”
The first project came from a friend who’d seen her talent indoors and asked for help outside. “I told her I’d never designed a garden before, and she said, ‘I know you can do it.’” From there, she threw herself into study, taking courses at the English Gardening School and, later, the London College of Garden Design at Kew. “It was the antidote I needed at the time: something to pour myself into during my divorce. It gave me purpose.”
Today, Butter leads a small, close-knit studio and oversees a portfolio of gardens that range from expansive countryside plots to tight urban courtyards. “Every project is different,” she says. “And I don’t think I have a signature style, which I’m actually quite proud of. It means we’re always responding to the space, the house, the people.”
When asked about designing for smaller city gardens, her face lights up. “You start with a really clear brief,” she explains. “Do they want to entertain? Is it a place for quiet? Where does the sun fall in the morning? Where can you steal a moment for cocktails at the end of the day?”
From there, it’s about building privacy - what she calls a “green hug.” Trellis is used to draw the eye upwards and wrap the garden in climbers; a carefully sited tree can block out a neighbour’s window. “But you have to be strategic,” she warns. “Put it in the wrong place and you’ll steal all your own sun - or someone else’s.”
In her own garden, the climbing Trachelospermum jasminoides (star jasmine) forms a living cloak against the house wall. “It flowers now, in June, and fills the entire bedroom with scent.” It also acts as natural insulation: keeping the back of the house cool in summer and warm in winter.
There’s a quiet pragmatism that underpins her romanticism. Materials matter: reclaimed Yorkstone, herringbone brick, details that reflect the language of the interior. “We always try to create a sense of continuity. The inside should speak to the outside.”
And then there are the pots. Dozens of them. “I love terracotta, but not too matchy-matchy. Some metal. Some glazed. And most of them are packed with perennials. They’re like little mini-gardens of their own.”
In the centre of the garden sits an unexpected feature: a small wildflower meadow. “It’s my urban meadow,” she smiles. “People don’t expect it in a city garden, but it’s incredible for wildlife. Juvenile insects, butterflies, bees - they all live there.” The mix is a pollinator’s paradise, with oxeye daisies, red campion, birdsfoot trefoil, lesser knapweed, ragged robin, selfheal and meadow buttercup dancing through the grass. “I only cut it down in July,” Butter adds, “letting it reseed and grow again for the next spring.”
The meadow sits between a clipped lawn, mown in minutes with a battery-powered mower, and soft herbaceous borders. “It’s the contrast that makes it. That crisp edge to the wild tangle.” And tucked amongst the blooms is a discreet bowl of fresh water. “It’s for the birds and bees. You don’t see it - but they know it’s there.”
We talk about tools “Always go battery-powered if you can - quieter, better for the planet” and trees, “They’re the key to making a space feel generous” she says, and gardens to visit. Her favourite? Chatsworth. “There’s something magical about the land up there. I did a show garden once, and I completely fell in love.”
Closer to home, it’s Chiswick House and the Thames towpath that offer daily inspiration. “I walk my dog along the river, then through the grounds. It’s unmanicured in places, which I love. And that canopy of trees… it’s like forest bathing.”
As we take respite in the shade, the conversation turns to garden philosophy. “A garden should be romantic,” Butter says simply. “It should surprise you, make you dream a bit, take you somewhere else – especially in a city.”
Butter’s garden is a reminder that thoughtful design doesn’t need vast acreage: it needs imagination, intention, and a willingness to let nature lead. Whether it’s a hidden bowl of water for birds or a jasmine-cloaked bedroom wall, every inch of her garden has been shaped with beauty and purpose in mind. Proof, if any were needed, that even in the city, a garden can still feel like a world of your own.
