Early days - Dad's ex-RAF German Shepherds were my earliest friends
It's Halloween and in many places, little folk will be carving pumpkins, dressing up in spooky costumes, having fun parties and 'trick or treating' their way around neighbourhood houses. Maybe others will be following the Latino/Catholic traditions of the Days of the Dead, when the spirits of the Ancestors are thought to pay a return visit to their homes. Offerings and memorabilia are set out on home altars - both to 'greet the Spirits' - and to act as aids to remembering the dead.
Those - like myself - to whom the concept of the Pagan 'wheel of the year' makes sense - the cyclical travelling of the natural world (of which we are all part) through both summer and winter, through life, death and many forms of re-birth/re-emergence/resurrection, mark and celebrate this time of the year as the Quarter day of Samhain; it is an acknowledgement of the declining part of the cycle into the breakdown and decay of all that has grown - but a breakdown into components that will contribute to the cycle by providing the resources for future regrowth. All is as it should be.
The Ancestors and departed loved ones and their importance are also an important focus of contemplation and honouring at this time of the year - those that have grown, flourished, died and decayed in bodily terms before us - (both in our own family lines, but also in our wider communities). But they have left important nutrients to our own identities - the nutrients of memories, shared through story, which can feed us so vigorously , individually and communally, if we are prepared to engage with them.
They can feed our understanding of ourselves by understanding our context - our place in the world, where we 'fit in' in the long, often fragmented and convoluted line of both our personal and community histories. They also contribute to who we have become by just being present at a particular time, in a particular place. I believe that this learning and this understanding can contribute to us a sense of stability in what often seems a constantly more unstable world.
My Mother - my human most Loved One of all and 'Weekie' the Westie
However…it is not only Human beings of whom I speak. You may notice in many of my posts the affinity I also feel for non-human beings. To me, companion and other animals are as much a part of our communities as are our humans - they have contributed greatly to my life, made a difference to it, have shaped and influenced it, and have, in part, made me who I am.
So on this Samhain 2017, when the veil between me and the Others is thin and their presence - as memories - is close, I share with you just a few images of the other Dear Ones that have been meaningful to my life. I would love it if you wanted to share some memories of your own non-human loved ones as well.
Feeding time on my Uncle's farm, a place and creatures that played a huge part in my childhood and love of the natural world
All creatures, great and small, are my companions at Autumn Cottage
My darling Lissie - 3 months old. As in this picture, never far from my heart.
Each one departed now - but they have all helped to make me who I am. Today, as the Great Wheel turns once more, I honour and thank them all.
They call it synchronicity, don't they? those extraordinary coincidences that sometimes happen so often that they become almost ordinary, but still give one pause (and a reason to muse that - perhaps - nothing is accidental). And so it happened this morning; while pondering what to write about and how I could make my blog post 'more interesting', I gazed out of the window, through the vase of white carnations …and through the raindrops.
Yes, it was raining, again, as it had been raining for days, and days, and days. I felt more than a little negative at another day of the same, and frankly quite depressed. I wondered how I could pull 'The Rabbit of Inspiration' out of the hat? - then realised that, in fact, inspiration was staring me in the face. Creative writing sages all encourage one to 'write about what you know' - and what did I know? - right here, right now? Mother Nature was not handing me lemons…but raindrops - and since my reality - what I REALLY knew was that it was raining, I decided that I would do a little 're-framing' and try to find inspiration and pleasure in that rain.
So I donned my Mac and hat, grabbed my camera and took off for a wander round the garden; the photographs that you see here are the result of that jaunt. It's true - if you look through a different lens, there really is some form of beauty to be found everywhere.
Variegated bamboo (Pleioblastus variegatus) by the pond
The 'synchronicity bit' comes from the fact that - having chosen to pull something positive out of my feelings of negativity, I switched on my computer and was presented on Facebook with an invitation to join one of (Buddhist priests & therapists) Satya Robin & Kaspalita Thompson's online month-long writing groups…and the title of this one? 'Joyful August - 31 days of Joy'. How about that for synchronicity!? ( I for one can certainly use more encouragement in that area - especially if it keeps on raining!!)
I've taken their courses before - so very easy going, so encouraging. So generous in spirit. So kind. They come in the form of daily email inspirations and a booklet of more quotes, links and essays for more extensive reading. Very, very inexpensive (just a few UK pounds) and usually with a concurrent online community where one can gain even more support and friendliness.
I've no affiliation to their work other than just feeling that their 'putting it out there with love' has been a force for good in my life for several years now…and especially in these troubled times, I reckon we can all do with a bit more of that.
If you want, you can find out more about Satya & Kaspa's work here
(You will probably read more about rainy England in August right here, from the Autumn Cottage Diarist!)
Acer leaves in the rain
The statue of 'Summertime' in the bottom bed - Ha!
The 'Umbrella Plant' Peltiphyllum peltatum down by the pond - watched over by St. Francis
The old sun lounger - with its ever more luxuriant blanket of Stags Horn lichen
Aforementioned luxuriant lichen!
A raindrop about to escape Hydrangea arborescens 'Annabelle'
The compost bin and Comfrey - the powerhouse of the garden - beautiful to me
Rosa 'Queen of England' - beautiful at all stages
Choosing joy - the gorgeous colours of the Day Lily - Hemerocallis 'Sammy Russell' (I think!)
Friends - this post was originally titled 'Ten Gifts Money Can't buy for Christmas' - but that would not be strictly true. Some of these ten gifts that I can give to myself or share with you *can* be bought with money - but they don't have to be. It's a pleasure to see how little you need to spend to light up your life... read on - you will see what I mean.
'A Child's Christmas in Wales' by Dylan Thomas
Two or three pages into this short story and I am transported back to Wales of the 1950's, with Welsh Mams and Dads and Anties (sic) and Uncles and Nanas and Grampies all over the place doing so many of the things that embroider the pages. You *can* buy the book - but you can also listen to the whole thing (read by the author himself) here
The Ornaments on the Christmas tree.
Ever since my eldest son was born - 32 years ago - I have bought one or two 'special' ornaments every year for the tree. But even more special than those are the ornaments made by the two boys themselves when they were young, (often entailing the inner cardboard tube from a loo paper roll!) which are wrapped so carefully and packed away each year and will no doubt be still adorning some other tree in some long off future time! Here is a selection of those precious items which are all on the tree already..
Stitched by H when he was ten years old
There's T's 'Loo Roll' Santa - made at nursery when he was two, and the silver acorns from Hampton Court.
The mini Carnival mask from Venice, Red Santa from Norland days...
The 'Versace ball' - acquired at the V&A museum when I visited the V exhibition with a dear American friend....and many, many more on the tree
The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols from King's College, Cambridge
(Image from BBC.co.uk)
Broadcast on the radio at 3 pm on Christmas Eve, this service is the signal for the proper start to Christmas here at Autumn Cottage. I will be in the kitchen, preparing vegetables or 'Pigs in Blankets' for the Christmas day feast - but I will still stop, as the treble voice of the solo chorister peals through the candle-lit silence of King's College Chapel with the first line of 'Once in Royal David's City'.
I will raise my glass of Croft sherry to the memory of my own eldest son, (himself a future choral scholar), leading in the choir as soloist in his last year at prep school, and also to the memory of my beloved Mother. She who always sat with me, in the kitchen, with her own glass of Christmas Cheer and a mince pie to listen to the carols. Through the ups and downs of life - precious memories light - with glorious and everlasting light - the dark days of Winter.
Here is that first Carol…and here is the full service from last year
Advent Calendars
Each year since they were small, my sons each received an Advent Calendar from their Granny. The earliest ones arrived in the days of the 'Hawkins Bazaar' novelty toy mail order catalogue, long before ordering on the Internet was a reality. So I created a little combination of the two, acquiring mini-treats to open with each calendar door (no chocs inside from Granny!), all collected together in an empty cereal box, which was covered in festive paper, with the calendar stuck on the front. In the process, I created a family tradition which has become much loved (though as my youngest reaches 30 next June, we thought it probable that this tradition will go 'on ice' after this year!)
The items inside can be trivial - it’s the fun of opening mini parcels as much as anything, and can be collected over the course of the year - a really cheap way to give a lot of pleasure.
A Walk in the Woods
The perfect way to both escape the hassle of the Christmas rushing about - and also a way to connect with the reality of the season; Solstice, here in the Northern Hemisphere is the dark time, but also a monochrome time, a time of stillness and of restorative silence, in which we wait for the tilting of the world and the return of the sun.
If you don't have a woodland near you, can you seek out a park or a garden to just spend some time with, and be restored by the Silence?
A Snowball.
No - not the frozen water variety, but the cocktail drink made with Advocaat, lime juice and lemonade; it was my Mother's great delight to have 'A Snowball' for Christmas, ceremonially made (complete with the essential cherry-on-a-stick) by my husband and flamboyantly delivered to her as she sat beside the fire on Christmas Eve. You can find the recipe (from which the image above is borrowed) here
Christmas is made precious by such memories of loved ones - why not spend a few minutes and a quiet moment, capturing yours? Write them down on a simple card or wooden (heart?) shape (cut your own or they can easily found at many large decorative stationers) and hang them on the tree. What unique and precious ornaments you can make to keep in your own treasure box.
Sheep safely grazing.
We sometimes have a flock of sheep put to graze in the field next door; it's a great and blessed treat if they turn up - as they have done - a day or two before Christmas. Here they are, last time they put in an appearance at Solstice.
A Game of 'Triv'!
Christmas is a time for silly games and none get sillier than the Cawley family playing Trivial Pursuit after Christmas lunch. Tissue paper party hats are required to be worn, I will have at least one fit of the giggles which will put me on the floor, eyes will be rolled (mostly at me) and ridiculous answers will be given to questions to which the sensible answers are already known.
All this is as it should be - no deviation will be allowed!
Though expensive if you buy it new, this - and many other board games - can be picked up for a song in charity shops throughout the year. Keep an eye open for this perfect antidote to terrible telly on Christmas afternoon (with the exception of Her Majesty's Christmas Message, of course!)
A Walk Around the Garden
See also 5 above - but a walk around my own garden is a particular pleasure at this so called 'dead time' of the year. It is anything but - pink Viburnum flowers already smother the shrub on which they grow, Hellebores are flowering, snowdrop, crocus and daffodils are pushing though. All keep hope of new Springtime life to come - and not too long to wait!
Daffodils pushing up under the apple tree - 20th December 2016
A Candle.
The ultimate symbol of hope - for Christians, the hope of the Light of Christ entering the world. For those, like myself, who reverence the natural world, a symbol on this Solstice Eve of the return of the light of the sun. Either way, an illumination of the darkness, in which - if we look - we can behold and befriend the face of The Other.
May you all find light and feel and share the warmth of both human and creature kind in the darkness of the year.
Thanksgiving Day in the USA - and once again, I am kidnapping the concept here in the UK to make my own list of gratitudes. Here are just ten things out of many in my life that I am so very thankful for.
1. My family - both my 'next of kin's' - and those of wider family - loved ones, with some of whom I have only recently re-connected. No names - they know who they are. As I grow older, I feel ever more conscious of the fact that 'family' - whether by blood or affection - are one of the things that gives foundation to my life.
2. My home - grateful to have a roof over my head when so many have none - especially this home, its deep sense of permanence thoughout its three hundred years of history still evident through the artefacts I constantly find scattered around. All the lives that have been lived here sustain me.
The garden - In Springtime...and in Autumn
3. My garden. My Little Eden. My Paradisum. The land - the place from where we all came, and to where we will all - in one form or another - return. (There and to the stars - for are we not also all stardust?)
4. The animals - the domestic pets that I have known in the past and who live with me now, and also the creatures alongside which I inhabit this beautiful but oh, so endangered planet.
5. My health - especially my eyesight. Like everyone else who has reached the 'more mature' years - I've had a few health 'ups and downs' - but by and large, I am well. I especially value my eyesight - I'm a visual person, always with my head in a book or an art-gallery (real or virtual!) - it is precious (and writing this is a reminder to take good care of it!)
6. My connection with the University of Winchester; those who have taught me and the things I have learned there, (which will be life-long) the friends that I have made there, (who I hope will be life-long) - the opportunities that still exist there for me… (yep, probably life-long!)
7. Enough money in my bank and pocket that I can enjoy life without worrying about my finances - not always the case in my life. I came from a very different - less 'comfortably off' world and have seen the corrosive effects of being constantly worried about money. I'm not extravagant - a book, a visit to the cinema, a day out in a garden to which I have membership entry - these all make me deeply happy (but I know that for some - even these things are great luxuries).
8. My Gratitude Journal - in which I write every night - three things, at least, to be grateful for. It lifts my spirit. It works!
9. My camera - where would I be without my 'second pair of eyes' ? Looking through the viewfinder gives me a different perspective on the world…which I can then share and discuss on….
10. ...Facebook & other social media - in other words, dear readers - YOU!
I've had my horizons expanded, and my friendships increased bounteously by the Internet connections I have made over the last 21 years. I've met a few of my internet friends and formed lasting friendships with many more that I will probably never meet face to face. Meeting 'in the flesh' does not matter - we meet in minds and hearts. I value a great number of you - you all enrich my life.
For all these things, I am grateful and today I especially give thanks.
It's July 2008, and I am at a conference convened by the British & Irish School of Feminist Theology. I'm listening to Dr. Mary Grey speak about reconciliation… 'struggling with reconciling hearts and holding fast to our dreams'. Mary had been working in Rwanda, after the horrific massacres there of over one million Tutsi by their Hutu neighbours.
There was much discussion regarding the road to reconciliation - 'the restoration of right relationship' in the most difficult of circumstances - but the words which had the most profound effect on me were those of Jewish scholar Thalia Gur-Klein, who had lost members of her family in the Holocaust, when she stood up, paused and then commented that 'it is important and right to LAMENT THE SORROWS of what has been done to you, before one can consider reconciliation'.
Her comments are always in my consciousness, because I have seen so many times how much clients need their griefs and losses to just be heard and lamented, before they can ever make even the smallest steps towards the 'next steps'. Steps of consideration of how they can 're-frame' their pain, their agony, how they can possibly use it and transform it into something able to at least be lived with, and maybe even, in time, to be life transforming, for themselves or others.
Forgiveness and reconciliation are on many lips since the result of the Presidential Election in America on Wednesday knocked many of us sideways. Many - including myself - have quickly (perhaps, I think, too quickly) turned to trying to inject a little light, offer words of conciliation, even trying to start to forgive those who voted for a man whom I personally believe must be very, very soul-damaged, and as a result has become the egotistic, misogynistic, racist, xenophobe we now see as President-elect.
Anodyne words have been almost, I think, a knee-jerk reaction (again, I include myself in this) - but on reflection, I think we should take pause, and make space for Lamentation, before we ever start to once more look towards how we can contribute to putting light back into the world.
Weep, (I have)…wail (I have), acknowledge the 'Loss of Dreams' and the steps (nay, stampede) backwards. Think of all those who now live a little - or a lot - more in fear of their lives and the futures of their loved ones.
And then…and only then…reform, re-group and gird up for the long battle ahead to once more promote the values of optimism, transformation, inclusivity and compassion (you will certainly add others) to all those who may have chosen a different, more frightened, confrontational way.
Decide - really think about and decide what true values are important to you. Hold fast to them, then turn your face to the storm, link arms (both physically and metaphorically) with all those you love and put those values out there into the world.
'Be the change you wish to see in the world' - but first, make time for lamentation.
When you are ready, there are some wonderfully helpful thoughts on processing recent events here. Before you are ready - just sit with this - it may soothe your aching heart.
And always - be ready to take a walk in the woods and be healed by the ever open hands of Mother Nature.
Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb! - in the veg garden today...
Facebook 'Pages' sure are clever stuff; as soon as you create one, Facebook generously and helpfully offers all sorts of feedback statistics, telling me how many people have looked at my page, how my latest post is performing, how many days it has been since my readers have heard from me.
All extremely useful information, but rather than finding it helpful, I have, I must admit, found it stressful and anxiety-making. I used to write a blog post when I felt I had something of interest to say; Facebook now continually reminds me that I am not 'performing' as well as I was yesterday, or last week - or the month before. That (it feels to me) I am in some way letting people down by not pumping more and more out onto 'The Page'
I feel as if I am being assessed and tested all the time (which I think is wrong in our school system nowadays - so why would I want it for myself?), so after a period of experimentation, I'm deciding to go back to mostly posting simple blog posts. Not so many people will see them (that's OK) but they will be there to be read as a constant thread - a mini biography of my life and thoughts, if you will, rather than 'Page Posts' which I feel bound to create in order to keep my 'performance record' looking good, but which disappear, trivialised, - like most of the things we post to Facebook - without a second thought or remembering. it just is not my style.
Don't get me wrong - I love Facebook for all the very genuine good it has brought into my life - community with those who hold similar views (and sometimes very different views - I value those friends just as much if their (and my own) minds can stay open); beautiful images, websites, conversations; but I do not want to have to run, daily, to keep up with myself and my 'performance'. I'll still use my Facebook page to notify readers of blog posts - but for now, it’s back to 'The Old Ways' - of blogging - for me. I'll give the occasional 'wave' - in my own good time - on my FB 'Page' - and yes, I will write a blog post more often!
One of our two resident cock Pheasants, retiring after taking 'tea'
There's rosemary, that's for remembrance… fennel, lemon balm, mint - a symbol of the pot that she always kept filled and from which she abundantly fed me… buddleia and echinacea, for the butterflies and bees, for she is their sister, at one with Nature.
My Mother was a weakly child - indeed at her birth, the second twin to emerge, she was 'covered over', given up for dead, until the midwife saw movement under the coverlet and heard the faint signs of breathing. That was just the start of a life of poverty and struggle for my beloved Welsh Mam; of much unhappiness, above which she rose with the grace of an angel. Her survival mechanism was simple: she loved everyone - humans as best she could, animals unconditionally. A legacy that she passed on to me, though I live it very poorly in comparison to the open heart with which she engaged with Life.
2 years old, Mam on the right, her twin sister 'Floss' on the left
To be honest, I am surprised by the depth of the grief that I have felt today, on what would have been her 100th Birthday. I think I have processed it, put it all behind me, 'dealt with it' - and then - on a glorious autumn day, the sun shines, I pick flowers from the herb garden to place on her grave, and grief rises in my throat and leaks out through my eyes. Grief - the price you pay for love, never completely goes away.
Along the lane to the graveyard in Highclere Park
Alongside the graveyard - the Chapel in the Park
Entrance to the graveyard
The steep slope leading down to her interment, under the trees
I've been up to the graveyard in Highclere Park this morning, to put some flowers on her grave, but in truth, she is not really there for me. Though her mortal remains lie in the most idyllic spot, in the end it is just a stone over some ashes of bone.
Autumn sunlight on the old graves
The real truth of her being I carry with me every day - her memory is in my genes and in those of my children. My mother taught us all how to love. I need no other memorial.
Clearing the winter leaf blanket as the daffodils shoot up
We both chuckled when Alec came in yesterday morning, togged up for a spot of gardening. He has lost weight recently, so thought a little assistance would be useful in the holding up of his gardening trews. He had found a pair of brocaded braces in his cupboard, so, thinking them suitable for gardening duty, (very sartorial, is Alec!), had hitched up his pants and was ready for work.
But as he was finishing his coffee, prior to foraying out into the far reaches of the garden, he mentioned that he had noticed that the name 'Latham' was written on the inner side of said braces. How on earth had that got there?? Then their origin dawned on me; they had last been worn by my father, in his final days in a nursing home, an establishment that - of course - required all garments to be labelled.
My poor old Dad, who prided himself on his smartness of attire, who ended up in quick-change trousers, with no thought to their appearance. My Dad who so dearly loved his garden, until Alzheimer's struck; then interest in gardens and life slowly dwindled away. You realise these things looking back; in reality, he didn't 'lose' interest - interest was stolen from him by the ravages of that horrible disease. Now - 20 years later - the gardener's braces were in service again, put to work in another garden. It was a fitting usage for them.
And later, we raised a cup of memory to him, for the sake of Auld Lang Syne. I wonder if he's pruning the roses in Paradise?
I have been intrigued by the concept of Pilgrimage for many years; though it is normally thought of as a journey made by those with religious belief to a site of religious power, the concept can, I think, also be applied to anyone making a journey - physically, emotionally or intellectually, between one place (physical or metaphorical) and another, and being changed in some way by the process of that journey as much as by what is sought - or discovered - at the end.
There are thousands of pages out there exploring pilgrimage in great detail and with considerably more intellectual and practical knowledge than I have myself. I have never been on pilgrimage (which does not mean that I never will), but was reminded of my interest once again by watching a fine, 3-part series ('The Sacred Wonders of Britain') presented by Neil Oliver which has been on UK television recently and which may, in time, appear on YouTube or PBS. He visits sites which have been considered sacred in the UK, covering, in the course of the series, some 5000 years. The final episode visits some of the medieval sites here, which hold particular interest for me. So I thought I would share with you here three encounters with (in these particular cases, Christian) Pilgrimage that I have had, which have touched and changed my own life in some way.
The first is in the form of what is, to me, an immensely moving sculpture. It is of pilgrims en route to Santiago de Compostella, the great shrine to Saint James in Northern Spain, upon one of the pilgrim routes to which the little town of Pons in the Charente-Maritime department of France stands. The sculpture actually sits on a traffic island on the outskirts of the town and I first saw it when staying with a dear friend at her cottage a few miles away. We were visiting in temperatures of 38C - but the (almost life-sized) figures in the sculpture are wearing clothing of heaviest construction, wrapped as if to protect the wearers from bitter cold and lashing rain.
They seem almost alive and they bring to life, for me, one of what seems to me to be an important feature of physical pilgrimage - that of encounter with adversity, whether it be of the weather, or of the physical limitations of one's own body. This installation, embodying such immensely realistic depictions of real people on a real journey, brings me each time I see it into immediate contact with the vulnerable humanity of travellers from many centuries. It touches my heart in a very profound way and I love it very much indeed
My second encounter came with a visit made in 2013 to the Cathedral Church of St David in Pembrokeshire, West Wales;
Again, the physicality of the site is striking; the cathedral sits at the end of a wild and rocky route and anyone wishing to visit over past centuries would have had an arduous journey - even now, with the luxury of travelling by car, it was not always easy. But I did also experience the sight of the newly restored shrine of the Saint, complete with five beautiful modern icons.
Saint Non - the supposed mother of Saint David
Pilgrims were, at the time of my visit, attending a service at the shrine and it was impossible not to be moved by the obvious intensity of their experience; though not believing in the same way as the Christian participants, that encounter with deep reverence had a great impact upon me. It also reinforced my feeling that - easy as it is, nowadays, to look upon pictures and watch films about these places - it is not the same as standing in actual, physical proximity with other humans as they - we - experience something apart from every-day experience, in community - the essence of Victor Turner's Communitas.
But for all the failings of book, image and film - they are still a very worthwhile resource - and so to my third encounter with Pilgrimage; a short (20 minute) and I think little known film - 'Pilgrimage' made in 2001 by maestro film maker Werner Herzog, who always seems to get further under the skin and closer to the heart (though it may be a dark heart) of an issue or phenomenon than almost any other director I can think of. The music is by another maestro, John Tavener. Together, the images and sound are transcendent - I hope you enjoy it; it certainly gave me pause for thought in my otherwise ordinary daily life.
Some changeable weather here over the last few weeks - firstly baking and burning, with the thermometer hitting 30C - then a plunge into heavy rain and a fall to 'chilly'. Cold enough for me to turn the Stanley stove on again last night after three weeks off. (In truth, this is as much for the heat of the stove itself, which I miss for its usefulness in drying off all sorts of items, more than the heating system it supplies, which is still turned off).
As you can see, this tempermentality of temperature has caused a leaf-fall around some of the trees, and a certain 'something' has definitely lingered in the morning air from the nights before for the last three days. Having placed a memorial candle outside the gate on Monday night, to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the entry of Britain to World War 1, the stand and candle were soaked in unexpectedly heavy dew when I brought them in at 11 pm.
The candle at the gate - 9pm on 4th August 2014 - awaiting 'lights out' for a one-hour vigil at 10pm
But the sun still continues to shine more often than not - and when it does, it still has warmth enough to encourage the numerous butterflies which visit the buddleia bushes and other garden flowers - one of the best features of this time of the year. One or two Fritillaries have passed by - unfortunately not when my camera has been to hand - but mostly it is the Peacock butterflies which make this their port of call. This one below is visiting the darkest purple - and my most favourite buddleia of all.
Lets go on one of our strolls around the garden so I can show you what else is going on right now...
The Echinops is a great favourite of the bees...
A few Echinacea - valiant survivors, having been grown from seed, of numerous slug attacks.
Hydrangeas in pots outside the conservatory - they have liked the mild, wet winter very much
Over in the gravel garden, one of the best by-products of the free-seeding cottage garden plants - more litttle plants to pot up and share! These are Stachys lanata ('Lambs ears') and oregano.
And at the bottom of the garden, by the lower pond - my own little private 'Shed of the Year', (shall I enter the national competition next time?), which continues to give me much pleasure and has become a popular venue for heart to heart chats over a cuppa for adults, and a fine fairy-spotting place for Little Visitors!
There's a gathering of hearts - of the ceramic, tin and fabric kind...
...and a few 'heart-stones', picked up in the garden.
And finally, to remind me of the garden butterflies - here is a canvas, picked up yesterday for a song in a sale, which perfectly fits the space - in the summerhouse in summer, and during the winter, in my own heart, as I wait for springtime to return.
Recent Comments