Imagine visiting a garden in late spring. There is a seat in just the right patch of shade, something climbing over the fence, and enough colour to make you stop talking for a moment.

You could happily spend the afternoon there. On the way home, you start wondering whether you should make one like it.

Those are two different desires, although they can arrive so close together that they feel like one.

The afternoon you enjoyed was part of somebody else's ongoing relationship with the place. They chose what to plant, noticed what was struggling and did the unremarkable jobs between visits. Perhaps they love those jobs. Perhaps some are a nuisance they accept for the pleasure of the rest.

Wanting the garden might include wanting that relationship. It might also mean wanting more afternoons in a beautiful place.

It is worth finding out which.

Admiration can become a surprisingly demanding way to go through life. A good meal becomes a plan to learn an elaborate dish. A friend's work becomes a question about why you have never attempted anything similar. Every pleasure arrives with a small proposal for self-improvement attached.

There is curiosity in that response, and sometimes the beginning of a lasting interest. But it can also make another person's achievement feel like an unfinished task of your own.

You are allowed to be the person who appreciates it. Your attention does not become less sincere because you leave without a shopping list.

That is not an argument for staying a spectator. Some pleasures only become available through doing the work. The gardener may notice changes a visitor cannot see, and feel attached to an ordinary corner for reasons no photograph would convey. You cannot know all of that from the seat in the shade.

If you are curious, ask about the ordinary part. What needs doing when nothing is flowering? Which jobs do they look forward to? Which would they gladly hand over?

The answers may make you want to begin. They may suggest a smaller beginning. Or they may help you appreciate what your friend has made without deciding to reproduce it.

There is room for all three responses. The useful question is whether you want to take part in the continuing activity, or enjoy what it makes possible. Neither answer needs dressing up as a better kind of person.

In the imagined garden, you might ask to help for an hour next time. You might go home and plant one thing.

You might simply thank the gardener, mean it, and accept another invitation.