Archive - Jun 2009

It is the day of the long sun.  All evening it has been young, it has been early although the clock ticked its time away and now, as I put my house to bed, there is still enough light to linger in the garden and wonder at the pale sky.  When I lived in Scotland it was never black in June, just a hanging grey as I drove home in the middle of the night.  It doesn’t seem right to ignore it,  read more »

It has rained through the night and now the garden is fresh and wet, full of the scent of it.  Any breeze causes another shower to fall as the trees loosen their stored drops.  They look as fresh as someone after a shower, exuding clean, wet happiness.  The hosta leaves are holding the bigger treasures, round jewels you can see through.  The garden is full of sound  read more »

Ooh, magic, magic.  The garden is full of soft sunshine and dappled shadows, the scent of blossom, the hum of bees and the song of birds.  It is a gentle, beguiling world softened by the play of shadows which still hold a slight moisture from their night’s sleep.  The leaves of the birch tree shimmer in a dance with a quiet rustling as the breeze lifts them, then lets them go.  read more »