We awoke yesterday to bright sunshine and a slight frost. “Perfect for photographs,” my husband said, “do you need any?” – to accompany the articles I am commissioned to write, is what he meant to say.
Well as it happened, his offer was fortuitous. Whilst sitting in bed drinking our usual mugs of morning tea, I had completed a short introductory chapter to what will become a part of the ‘Cotswold Scrapbook’ that I am in the process of writing. Or maybe instead it will take the form of a regular newsletter to go on my website – to be entitled something along the lines of ‘Jottings from an English Garden’. That aside, I jumped at Raymond’s offer of photos: they would act as a reminder of what I would be writing about, and be useful in all manner of ways.
My purpose yesterday was to catalogue every area of the garden, which over the last five years has become so tangled and overgrown, due to circumstances which I won’t cover here. We intend to spend 2009 reclaiming our acre of ground – not for the first time. We’ve been ‘reclaiming’ it over and over in sections ever since we moved here 40 years ago!
Wearing scarf and jerkin, and with pen and clipboard in hand (Raymond with his camera), we began in one corner and worked our way around each of my little ‘mini gardens’; it only took a half-hour but 53 photos later – and with frozen fingers – we had our starting point and returned to our warm living room to reflect over breakfast on the long check list I had by then compiled.
Was I depressed at all there is to do to bring the garden back into full production? Not a bit of it! Although the task is daunting, it was such a beautiful morning, snowdrops out, birds singing and honeysuckle shooting. Raymond was appalled at the overall mess, but I have the infuriating habit of not seeing what I don’t want to see! Of visualising what was, and will be, and not the here and now. Progress (with photos) will be recorded in my gardening blog/website - for the time being on the 'blog' page, and in an accompanying journal/diary. “Not another one ….?” do I hear? It’s my way of keeping track of what will become history, for this small patch of land with its old farmhouse has been here for over 400 years, the land of course for millennia and once under the sea. We are but a drop in the ocean. Documentation in anything I do is as essential for me as breathing, so forgive my indulgence.
Double click on any of the images to view them at a larger size.