About this time last year I wrote about walking in the garden with Andrew. I wrote about how everything was coming to life.
The garden remains a place of solitude and comfort to me. I still delight in strolling round, picking daffodils in spring, collecting firewood in autumn.
But now when I look there are different things I see.
- Smartly laid gravel, I try not to look at the weeds already peeping through and hope the weedkiller is working its magic.
- Freshly dug borders with the most beautiful pale pink pansies planted.
- A little corner of broken pottery, sea glass and pots of polyanthus. A place where I have gathered the discarded together to form my favourite spot.
|pots, plants gravel and weeds!|
OK so maybe I can only take full credit for the last one. I have had lots of help in maintaining the garden. Actually I don't think the garden has ever looked better and I have instigated the transformation if not done all the work.
Maybe the garden today shows just what I can achieve and I should grab Andrew's hand and say "Come on; let's go for a walk in the garden."
You can read about last year's walk by clicking on the link below.
unravelling edges: "Let’s go for a walk in the garden.”: Andrew would hold out his hand. “Come on; let’s go for a walk in the garden.” I’d abandon whatever I was doing and have to follow...