and so about the afterlife I say to him, you see my mum and I are standing at opposite ends, she not able to imagine that we who think and feel - her voice just like frail hands against a heavy door - might be no more whereas I well I struggle even to… Continue reading and so about the afterlife
With real Roman tiles, Sir. (I know I need more oxygenating plants, will order some for the pond, as well as that stuff against that nasty green algae which is already starting to choke the pond...). By the way, I hope the fact the frogspawn is not floating doesn't mean our future tadpoles are doomed.
At last, I have stepped into the garden. The new (temporary) teaching job I started in November, in a public school's international French section, as well as the storms unleashed upon us, kept me from coming out and greeting the first signs of the growing season. As soon as February appeared, I could feel the… Continue reading First gardening day (hello newt)
powdered pink and blue the single lightstroke of a flight - this morning's sign
And whilst I busy myself with plants only a handful of people will get to enjoy, words fly asea and children grow. We emerge from the Docklands Light Railway under the imposing hull of the Cutty Sark. Above Greenwich, clouds and sun weave a fine maritime sky perfect to blow wind in our imagination. Your… Continue reading Childhood
... and still waiting for the dahlias, echinaceas, echinops, salvias, miscanthus, pomegranate and others. What little land I have works hard ! I must apologise for the bad quality of the pictures, my phone's camera messes up contrasts. Colours are accurate (at least on my screen).
Minding my own business is something I am quite good at, these days. This discretion is probably less born out of virtue than a consequence of my near reclusion. Apart from school runs and equivalent walking to and fro between children's activities, I am my own company, which usually suits me. I have been spending… Continue reading Mind your own business
That's it, I've lost it. Just like the rest of the country, but on a grander scale. Jugez-en par vous-mêmes : two days ago, I had this sudden urge to move my beloved and innocent acer palmatum Katsura into the shady bed. A modest and reliable potentilla fructicosa inherited from the previous occupants, which in… Continue reading Bye bye turf
I am glad Storm Gareth has finally tired of blowing over our isles. Unlike in February, the temperature has resumed normal lows and I need a jumper and two fleece jackets when I go round my garden (using my husband's fleece last as it is big enough to wrap around all the layers). I have… Continue reading White blossom
I realised this morning (or was it late last night) that English may have become my easier oral language. I have now reached a point where I find more natural to explore a number of common topics of conversations, such as the news, politics and other ideas, in English. It may have a lot to… Continue reading Language landscape
Prévisible, voilà ce que je suis. Il a suffi d'un jour de lumière cristalline à la porte de février pour que des mots s'en viennent. Après des mois de silence, soudain quelques poèmes tambourinent au portillon, des poings et des pieds, dégringolant comme Bifur, Bofur, Bombur et Thorin sur le paillasson de Bilbo... mais de… Continue reading Poetry, pomegranate and persimmon
Just a short note. You may have noticed my propensity for mentioning slugs and snails. In fact, I believe doing so will strengthen my claim to be part of the great family of English / British gardeners. After all, this island could well be renamed Slugland. One of my first posts on this blog was… Continue reading Number one enemy
January already. I have been thinking there seems to be no such thing as "the dead of Winter". Not these days, at least. Of course, the previous years have taught us that the coldest part of Winter might very well be hugging Spring rather than Autumn, and there are plenty of weeks left for the… Continue reading The dead of Winter
I have been wanting to write about the garden for so long... A few notes in the Gardening Diary page is all I could manage. But leave it too long and then you don't know where to start, ending up with a disorganised post... Most garden blogs I follow have been stressing what an extraordinary… Continue reading Autumn garden
Late August views from a Lancashire hill, which last April was resounding with the skylarks' song. The heather was much more purple than can be seen on these pictures, but nonetheless fading.
Our small pond has been in function for 19 days now. During that time, we have had very little rain, almost nothing, and I feel increasingly anxious about it. The good news is, the liner doesn't seem to be leaking, in spite of the fact that it is irregularly supported underneath (very hard to backfill… Continue reading Garden (and pond) miscellaneous 3
The exceptional weather explains how little I blogged about gardening, in spite of a wild and unrequested desire to share everything that grows on my small plot - I was too busy outside, enjoying each day of sun as if it was to be the last. I can't say I remember such a sunny and… Continue reading Jane, Paul and the tadpoles
I've decided to stop pretending there is a theme to what I post about my garden, when all I want to do is to share pictures and let the joy spread. Hence the title. Today is, according to the weather forecast, the last day of sunshine. The mini-summer comes to an end, but, boy was… Continue reading Garden miscellaneous (1)
Few places are as beautiful as England when the sun shines as it does this week - it's that dazzling green. There are so many occasions of exaltation and gratitude that I feel dizzy. Walking accross the field to go to town, yesterday, I thought I would love to have a blog section called :… Continue reading May it last !
Walking one morning on the Holcombe moors under a bright Spring sun. Distances are vanishing into a gleaming haze and on the banks bloom the first coltsfoot flowers. Up Moorbottom lane, the warm stones elicit sensations of Southern Alpine paths. Lancashire moors, Southern Alps, worlds apart ? Not to me. I walk, grateful for the… Continue reading Notes on skylarks, memory and happiness