Dwindling ...

...the number of posts and the number of readers I suspect

and the harvest too

but it was a good year for French beans

and I will definitely grow them again.

Sissinghurst and Great Dixter continue to mellow beautifully

 and there is an exciting new place to visit,

Tillingham, a biodynamic vineyard, 

with rooms and a restaurant in the heart 

of the Sussex countryside.

There was a son in San Francisco

and another newly established in Tokyo.

This butterfly looks a little how I feel.

I'm never good with the shortening days

and this seems to have been a particularly swift descent into Autumn.

Pencil sharpening, new term feelings were not as marked as in previous years

but for this one

a fifth birthday

and an exciting first week at big school are under her belt.

For now, in these troubling times,

I seek solace in scenes like those above,

the writings of Gladys Taber, (thanks Nan)

and seek to adopt the Zen-like attitude

of this ram.

See you, I hope,

before we all fall over the cliff.

Spring board

As well as being seduced by Instagram,

I have been brought to a grinding halt by my old computer.

Now I have something new and shiny 

but I don’t know if it will let me load photos

or what anything will look like.

So here goes:

I know that magnolias are rather old hat now and are mostly

a rather thickly padded brown carpet for most of us

but I wanted a record for posterity anyway.

Moving swiftly on, we have apple blossom,

and lambs.

The garlic persists but with added flowers

Wood anemones are holding their own,

but have been joined tentatively by bluebells.

The Open garden season is upon us

and tulip mania is in full swing.

Today has been so warm that the belted Galloway

have sought shade under the hawthorns.

Well nothing about this short post went well.

Clearly an iPad is not suited to this sort of endeavour

and despite the tranquil scenes you see above

I have been tearing my hair out and gnashing my teeth

on the other side of the screen.

I cannot scroll.

I cannot stop the typeface reverting to Times Roman.

I cannot break a line without it inserting an initial cap.

I cannot enlarge the photos.

I cannot prevent the whole page from flicking back up to the top

While I type.

And there’s that blasted cap.

I must regroup.

It will be Autumn leaves before we know it 

and the whole summer will have gone unblogged.

Bear with.

Reality check

We've been enjoying some beautiful gardens.

This one at Scotney Castle

with its stunning display of acers, azaleas

and rhododendrons

and of course Sissinghurst too with

the white wisteria just opening.

I took note of a pairing of smoke bush

and alliums, underplanted with a pale pink persicaria 

and thought I could do something similar at home.

But the fox cubs had other ideas.

These are the ones I salvaged.

 I thought of Freda and her deer-munched tulips

and all the other people working against the clock, the climate and the critters

to get their gardens ready for public display this summer.

New Year blues

Our grand daughter was thrilled to be opening presents.

Anyone's presents.

The more the merrier.

The contents? Well they were not really the point of the exercise.

It was the moment of mystery that held her in thrall.

I received many lovely gifts too,

but the sighting of this blue glass gem on a beach that normally

only yields white and green was absurdly thrilling.

I felt as though I had won the lottery.

And yet and yet.

The glass once dry and cached with all the hundreds of other pieces indoors,

has lost some of its lustre. 

The magical feeling of acquisition has faded.

Where does this pull towards possession come from?

It seems to start so early.

And the longer it lasts, the older I get, the more complicated it is 

to shuck off the weighty legacy.

I had a waking dream nightmare, where I was trying to dispose mentally

of all the items in my house, as if in readiness for an imminent move

to somewhere much smaller than my present abode.

The practical difficulties seemed overwhelming.

And yet so many people have to do just this,

perhaps at a time when they are physically least able to cope.

My parents had a large house which easily swallowed 

in its attics and outhouses

the baggage of a long lifetime, raising a family

and running a nursery school from the premises.

My mother was incorrigible.

'You'll have to deal with all this when I'm gone,' she said laughingly.

And when both parents died within five weeks of each other,

that is exactly what we had to do.

It was haphazard and brutal.

A skip was ordered and house clearance people got very lucky.

There simply wasn't time to make considered decisions.

Today I started my Kondo-ing again.