Sometimes in late June, garden clubs from other cities visit my garden as a part of an all-day tour of Vancouver. I used to be terrified of these groups—as if they might peruse my clothes' closet—but their visits are actually wonderful. After my guests study the climbing roses interwoven with Clematis, raspberries staked on unusual trellising, and steppable ground covers between pavers, they usually inquire about me. Not about where I'm from or how many kids I have, but how I garden. Do I plan my perennial border or wing it? Do I still prune my overgrown apple trees or use pesticides on my Morning Glory? Do I have any regular help—and, if so, how do we divide the labor? It's this curiosity, this desire to share what we learn and understand, about our passion called gardening, that makes their visits such a pleasure.

If I actually wrote a book on how I garden, I doubt anyone would publish it, much less read it. Gardeners today mostly buy didactic books (Amazon's bestsellers tend to be entirely crop-oriented). No doubt this instinct to grow crops is a good one, and these books do inform, but they unabashedly offer a compartmentalized approach to what is by its nature a holistic pursuit. Interestingly and impressively, Oxford University Press has ignored this trend and reprinted a lovely version of a 17th-century compendium, Directions for a Gardiner and Other Horticultural Advice, by the renowned diarist and gardener John Evelyn. Count on the British to value their history.

John Evelyn was a man of many skills and professions. He wrote the exceptional Sylva, an enduring work on trees and timber management. While Evelyn was overshadowed in popularity and posterity by his friend Samuel Pepys, his diaries and letters provide otherwise unavailable insights into 17th-century quotidian routines. He was a well-regarded courtier during the reign of Charles II. Personally, Evelyn was pious, astute, and scientific, as well as loyal, occasionally tedious, and perhaps a bit stodgy. Evelyn was also was an exceptional garden savant and caretaker. He ran his 100-acre estate, Sayes Court, for nearly 50 years, seeking to understand every detail of its needs and capabilities.

Directions for a Gardiner contains reprinted versions of three of Evelyn's works. The first is Kalendrium Hortense, subtitled "the Gard'ners Almanac; Directing what he is to do Monethly throughout the Year And what Fruits and Flowers are in PRIME." In detail he records which pears and apples are edible, in blossom, and in fruit. For the month of March, he writes, "Mid-March dress-up and string your Strawberry-beds, and uncover your Asparagus, spreading and loosning the Mould [that is, compost] about them for more easie penetrating. Also may you now transplant Asparagus roots to make new Beds." In December, he prioritizes which tender plants need to be brought in for protection, providing three separate lists. Attending first to the tropicals, Evelyn writes, "I Classe: Being least patient of Cold, and therefore the to be first set into the Conservatory." Later he spells out "III Classe: which not perishing but in excessive Colds, are therefore last to be set in." These remain useful lists and chronological guides nearly 350 years later.

Directions for a Gardiner also draws from Evelyn's extensive notes for Jonathan Mosse, the fine fellow who came to Sayes Court as an apprentice and rose to run the estate in its entirety. This "How To" approach includes entries such as "Evergreens", "Complete Culture of the Orange", and "Pruning." In sharing his best secrets, Evelyn displays not only a gracious tone but also an earnest concern that Mosse succeed at managing this complex and elegant landholding.

The third book of this volume is the Acetaria (Latin for "salad"), an extremely detailed compendium of medicinal, horticultural, and culinary expertise. Evelyn begins with an explanatory list of the attributes of 73 different choices for salads, everything from Artichokes to Wood Sorrel. Following this list, he provides expansive detail about raising many salad plants—lettuces, spinaches, parsley, etc.—and how to prepare them in different ways for the table. While it is more than even most vegetarians yearn to know, Evelyn then entwines theological perspectives, philosophy, poetry, and detailed instructions on the "Composing of a Sallet." The strength of this volume lies in its wealth of detail, covering everything from tools needed (a non-power tool enthusiasts' dream) to "treatments for varmine." There seems to be no skill or crop that Evelyn hasn't thought to understand, test, and explain. He puts current consumer's guides to shame. While the current trend is toward quick solutions, Evelyn's contribution is to not simplify.

Aspects of these treatises will frustrate all but the gardening historian. Many words are in antique English, and reading some paragraphs feels like deciphering verbal puzzles. Chapters are often bracketed with Latin quotes and proverbs, all of which are translated in the closing notes but remain imposing for many of us nevertheless. Are the advice and guidelines helplessly outdated? Only occasionally. For example, Evelyn disliked worms, soft-bodied creatures we now know are often beneficial to our gardens. But more frequently the gardener will find a great number of what we would call effective organic approaches: how to get rid of moles, how to collect vegetable seeds, how to eliminate weeds from gravel paths. The gentleman knew his stuff.

Maggie Culver-Campbell should be commended for her fine editing, providing that lovely skill of making something old better without leaving a trace of her own subtle pruning. The lists and appendices at the end are helpful, enumerating explanations by page, as is Evelyn's extensive glossary of plant names.

Underlying my appreciation, the question still begs to be asked: Is it worth reading a 300-year-old garden book? For historians and devotees of all things 17th century, the answer is a resounding yes. There is a patience about these logs, an account of seeing changes and results over the long haul that is almost unheard of in current garden literature. For someone starting a hobby farm, this volume is filled with useful, well-organized information. For the home gardener, Evelyn's work is a treat, but a specialized treat—not for a frenetic spring afternoon but ideal for a long winter's night.

Julie Lane-Gay is a writer and gardener in Vancouver, British Columbia.

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