Mr Blackbird perched on the TV aerial, speaking welcome to the new morning…which had broken…so, of course, the blackbird would be singing, wouldn’t it? Pretty much like the first bird, but the skylark I could also hear trilling its heart out over the fields might have something to say about that. There were two pigeons causing an enormous kerfuffle in the goat willow. They’re a bit inept when manoeuvring around trees, are pigeons. I don’t think I want to know what they were up to, but I’m sure they were enjoying themselves.
View across the field from the top of the courtyard steps, wrapped in that soft misty atmosphere that promises another clear, fine day ahead. The pale green field was mowed yesterday and the bailer had been up and about very early, whirring and clacking and turning the dry grass into neat parcels that now look like ancient megaliths in the haze, waiting for tractor collection later.
Daisies. I don’t know what kind but they are big and blowsy and take over one of the borders every year, and there is nothing I can do to stop them. Still, if you’re going to have your borders invaded, better it be by an army of confident daisies, eh? And I like daisies. The only necklace I wear is a small silver daisy.
View from the half-way gate into the top garden. Greenhouse to the right, raised beds ahead, potting shed and grape pergola to the left(ish). The fire pit is still in situ from our Summer Solstice celebrations last week. We wrote wishes on bits of paper - on for the World, one for someone else and one for ourselves, and threw them into the flames with peaceful intention. It was a grounding moment. Will the wishes manifest? Well, I won’t be able to report back for the others in the group because we all kept our wishes secret, but if mine come to pass I might just tell you.
The grapevine pergola! Look at this vine go!! It was about three feet high and four feet wide when we inherited it with the cottage eight years ago. It clearly loves living where it is, and we installed the pergola three years ago to support it. Lord Malarkey has just added some more horizontal wooden braces for it to climb along. It’s quite magnificent and produces loads of white grapes. The front posts are covered in the hop bines which have also gone berserk this year, putting on at least four shoots each.
This view makes me smile. It’s the entrance to our nod at a walled garden. Building an actual walled garden from bricks (which is my garden fantasy - exploring walled gardens is an absolute joy of mine) would have been cost prohibitive so instead we planted many, many two foot high hornbeam whips on Boxing Day a year after we moved here, and now they have taken on full-hedge status! They form the outside of what I optimistically call ‘the orchard’ and this archway is one of two access points. Visitors say it’s like a little secret garden. The climbing rose ‘Lady of the Lake’ is guardian of the archway and is tangling herself nicely with the hornbeam. I prune the hornbeam twice a year to help it thicken and keep it under eight feet tall. Go through the arch and turn left and there is a sweet, warm corner that is perfect for meditation, peaceful reading or just having a quick snooze.
I say to Lord Malarkey that we are very lucky to have a garden like this. He snorts and says, ‘Luck? More like hard work…’
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KJ