WHETHER THEY UNLEASH your inner Andrew Carnegie or expose your suppressed Ebenezer Scrooge, there’s no dodging the seasonal gift round-up. Even we gardeners are portrayed as craving sailcloth smocks, traditional trugs, robotic lawnmowers and thermal weeders — not to mention gloves so luxurious it’s hard to envisage wearing them outdoors, let alone to rummage in the soil with. Then there are the gardening journals.
Stationery, it’s reported, is enjoying a