Magic in the Meadow
As I write, there are hundreds of young plants in our newly sown wildflower meadow, ready to become the key that will unlock the door to even more of a magical mixture of wild flowers.
As I write, there are hundreds of young plants in our newly sown wildflower meadow, ready to become the key that will unlock the door to even more of a magical mixture of wild flowers.
For about three weeks our parterre is garnished with a sea of intense purple balls of flower.
One of the many good things about having visitors come round the garden is that it forces you to do all those tidying up jobs you’ve been meaning to do.
Nothing in gardening is so exciting or encouraging as the lengthening days of April.
Gardening is often thought of as a solitary profession and I am sometimes asked if I ever get lonely.
Twenty-five years ago Hew and I planted some trees, each the size of a broomstick, in a area on the outer side of the moat, that was nothing but rough grass, nettles and brambles. After a quarter of a century these spindly little trees have become a woodland.
There is nothing more joyful than visiting other people’s gardens. We are a curious bunch – we all want to see what is behind that garden gate.
How many people plant an oak tree in their garden? Not enough for sure.
There is no gardening substance so wonderful as leaf mould. It smells delicious – like a woodland floor, is completely free and it is also enormously useful.
“I suggest we put each other on a month’s trial to see how we get on” said Hew. I think we can safely say that we have passed as that was 25 years ago.