The evening light is leaving us, and the nights are growing cold, but colours like these keep winter blues whispers at bay. I find crabapple red. And sweet chestnut green and brown. Pretty for decoration or delicious for dinner. (Just be careful when scuttling over a sweet chestnut carpet. It’s like negotiating carelessly strewn prickly … More Winter blues whispers and prickly tennis balls
A blue sky warms leaves as they burn into the new season. A fern breathes in light on the day of the equinox. And there is tension in the air as the rut approaches. Autumn stakes a delicate claim on Knole Park as summer says goodbye.
A brief post to show an intriguingly tactile door in the old quarter of Girona in Catalunya (called Barri Vell). An ancient building with a less ancient entrance, displaying an age-old symbol in an area with a long and complex religious history. Was definitely food for thought, but invited a quick snapshot too.
Just as Brexit discussions are finally commencing in Brussels, four Europeans are executing a complete transformation of our garden, in full blast of a fierce heatwave. They toil determinedly for long hours, sweat trickling in streams down their temples. Cheerful and polite, they unearth and present us with museum pieces from the last century which … More European Gardeners
You could spend all day here, but we have just one hour. A stolen hour. No. 4 should be at school, but technically he’s unwell. We reckon a spell at Riverhill Himalayan Gardens might work wonders (for us both). As ever, it does. Today we find dens designed by experts, with bluebells for decorations. And a coppiced chestnut spiral by Tim Norris to … More A Stolen Hour at Riverhill
Charlotte Hobson reminds me of a good friend who hails from the same Cornish corner of England where Hobson lives. They are both tall, have similar mannerisms, and are skilful storytellers – using softly expressive, very well spoken voices (quite posh). Both make you want to listen. I feel tempted to ask if they are acquainted … More Vanishing into Russia
My son tells me he thinks our garden needs some attention (but not in those words). As we walk from our back door, trip through the wreckage of an abandoned ball game, and squeeze past a sad old trampoline, he points to the straggly plants which over-populate the flower beds, and asks if they are weeds. “Er, probably.” He … More Our Fair Share of Apple Blossom
Time and patience are lacking, so I’ve listened, and decided to take No. 4’s advice. He’s 10 (since yesterday), so knows a thing or two. If you are kind enough to chance upon older posts, you may find a puzzling dearth of photographs – perhaps you’ll see a few squares with an irritatingly small question mark where … More Photos, advice, wine and Berlin
By the time we reach the River Thames, No. 2 has taught me everything I need (or want) to know about sharks (we’ve been travelling for just 35 minutes). A chill wind whips up, so I tug my scarf tighter. My son stands at the river’s edge, moving breezily on to the subject of the seals which (apparently) splash in the murky dark depths below us. So start … More 24 hours in London – chat, clues and comedy
Today No. 4 met me from school with a spring in his step and a “How are you, Mum?” “Fine, thanks.” I smiled. His thoughtful theme continued, “Did you have a good day?” “It’s getting better … ” I laughed. My boy’s line of questioning is a rare and wonderful thing, especially in these latter days of winter. … More A Spring in his Step