I'm not saying come with a finished brief. Most people don't, and that's fine. But the conversations that go somewhere useful are the ones where the homeowner has already done some thinking. Not about specific materials or layouts necessarily, but about the things that actually drive a project. Budget. How the garden gets used. What's staying, what's going. You can arrive not knowing the difference between porcelain and sandstone and still have an excellent first meeting. You just can't arrive not knowing your budget.

Start with the honest budget number

Not the budget you'd prefer. Not "we'll see what it comes back at." The actual number you've made peace with spending.

This matters because garden projects don't have a fixed price. A new patio in Hampshire could be £5,000 or £18,000 depending on size, materials, ground conditions, and what else the brief involves. If I don't know your budget, I can't tell you whether what you're describing is in range or whether we need to rethink the scope before anyone wastes an afternoon on a site visit.

The number I hear most often that causes problems: "up to about £X, but we'd go higher for the right thing." That's not a budget. That's an invitation to spend more money than you planned. A real budget has a ceiling you're committed to. Everything else is a design decision.

Work out how you actually use the space

Not how you'd like to. Actually.

Do you eat outside, or do you plan to? Do you eat outside three times a year or three times a week? Is the garden used by children, dogs, or neither? Do you want somewhere you can sit on a Sunday morning, or are you more interested in a clean, low-maintenance surface you don't have to think about?

These aren't small questions. A household that eats outside most evenings from May to September wants something different from a household that wants a smart terrace for occasional entertaining and an easy lawn for the dog. The brief that comes from one is not the brief that comes from the other.

The most common mismatch I see: aspirational use versus actual use. Someone commissions a large, beautiful terrace because they love the idea of outdoor dining. The terrace gets used six times a year. A more considered brief would have produced something smaller and better suited to how the household actually lives.

Know what's staying and what's going

This shapes everything. A garden with a 40-year-old oak, a retaining wall on the boundary, and a slope down to the back fence is a completely different project from a flat, blank-slate new-build plot. Both can produce excellent results. They produce different results, and they require different thinking.

Before we visit, it's worth walking around and noting: any existing structure you want to keep (mature trees, boundary walls, established planting); anything that needs to go and whether you've checked what's involved (protected trees, shared boundaries); the levels, whether the garden is flat or sloped, whether the terrace is level with the house or lower; and what's underneath. In Hampshire, we're mostly dealing with chalk and heavy clay. Older gardens especially can turn up old concrete, rubble, and drainage issues that only show once we start digging.

None of this needs to be a survey. It just needs to be the kind of honest look-around that tells you roughly what you're starting from.

Have a rough materials view

You don't need to know your supplier code for Raj sandstone. But having a directional view before we talk makes the first conversation twice as useful.

The main choice is natural stone versus porcelain. Natural stone, Indian sandstone, limestone, slate, has a warmth and variation that porcelain doesn't. It ages well in the right context and suits older or traditional properties. Porcelain is denser, non-porous, and easier to maintain. It suits coastal exposure and contemporary settings better than sandstone does. If you want the longer version, I've written about porcelain versus sandstone in more detail here.

Beyond the surface: do you want sleeper raised beds or brick-built? A pergola in hardwood or painted steel? A lawn, or something that doesn't need mowing? None of these have a right answer, but having a view, even a vague one, makes the first site visit genuinely productive.

If you're genuinely undecided, say so. The worst outcome isn't uncertainty. It's a brief that says "we're open to anything" and then turns out to be very particular indeed.

Write it down

Before you call anyone, write down four things.

Budget. A real number, with a ceiling.

How the garden gets used, daily or occasional, what for, who by.

What's staying. What's going.

One or two images that show the kind of work you're drawn to. Not mood board therapy. Just an honest signal about the direction you're heading.

That's a brief. Not a full design spec. Not a measured survey. Just enough for a landscaper to tell you quickly whether what you're describing is achievable at your budget, and whether the work they do matches what you're after. It protects your time as much as theirs.

One more thing: timing

Garden projects take longer to commission than most people expect. Between the first conversation, the site visit, the written brief and price, and getting the project into the programme, you're typically looking at six to twelve weeks before work starts. If you want a garden ready for the following summer, the conversation needs to start in the autumn or early winter before.

The enquiries that come in March for April work almost never result in a project done well. Not because the work can't be done quickly. Because planning it quickly means skipping the conversations that make the work any good.

If you're ready to start thinking it through, send a brief through here and I'll come and take a look.