AUGUST: INCONSISTENCY

 The mole, who periodically decides to throw beautifully sifted earth up on to my lawn, has returned this week. We share this mole with the friend in the neighbouring garden above ours, and for all we know we may be sharing hundreds of little velvety creatures living beneath our properties. 

We never hear them, unlike the raucous rooks and magpies who feel the need to shout at each other quite often during daylight hours, and the irritating squirrel currently tearing unripe hazelnuts off the branches overhanging the garden, barking and screeching as he does so. 

August is often a trying month, during which half the country takes it into their heads to set off on holiday while the other half sits it out staunchly at home, happy to complain about the first half. This year has proved more difficult, if only because the weather has been inconsistently wet and at times unbearably hot. Then there is the virus… but we won’t go into that.

I have been reading about the German occupation of Europe during the Second World War, from the point of view of those sent from Britain as spies. ‘Prince of Spies’ by Alex Gerlis took me through the first week of August and was so thrilling that I promptly read its sequel ‘Sea of Spies’. In the first, the very likeable hero is sent to Copenhagen, where his mission is fraught with danger. In the second, he is attempting to find out whether the Germans are developing the notorious V1 and V2 rockets, and a terrifying journey into and across Germany follows. Both the first book and its sequel are well crafted and beautifully written. They make tense, gripping reads as well as adding well researched facts to one’s knowledge of both places and history at that time.

In contrast ‘Night Flight to Paris’ by David Gilman is based, as you will guess, in occupied Paris. It is more harrowing to read, grim and depressing, and I was glad to finish it – even though the twist at the end was remarkably well contrived. Sometimes it is wiser, in my opinion, to consider whether reading a certain type or genre of book when one is feeling low or depressed can make one feel better or worse. I definitely felt worse after reading the Gilman book, and have had to make a careful selection for my next read – the safe hands of author Ellie Griffiths – to try and return some equilibrium to my life!

I have peppered this blog post with garden views. The poppies and early roses are long gone, but all my hastily planted Cosmos are now blooming wildly and many roses are in their second phase. The sunflowers have hated the extremes of weather, but my American Canna which stubbornly refused to flower last year has perked up in the heat and produced one gorgeous red bloom.

Finally: this particular Blog is dedicated to my father, Noel Unsworth, who fought with the King’s African Rifles in Burma during WWII, and for all those brave souls who fought with him, 75 years ago this week. This was one of his favourite poems:

“I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,

Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,

Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,

With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.”

― William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

LISTLESS

I promised to show you the other side of my garden, but a feeling of listlessness has delayed our walk and July has only a week left. We’ll do it today. The weather has been very changeable, so some of my photos – taken this afternoon – are less colourful than I would have hoped. Let’s stroll down the lawn and through the arch…

The lawn stretches out in front of us to left and right, ending at the long fence which marks the boundary between us and our neighbour. I am not a fan of this fence: old, somewhat rickety and apt to blow backwards and forwards in the wind, it needs replacing. We can’t afford to do so all at once, but we managed two panels last year, and hope to put in a couple more in the Autumn. I particularly detest the colour, but I guess it could be worse!

To the right, the Devon bank stretches down to the corner where a bent old conifer used to grow at an alarming angle. We took this out a couple of years ago, deeming it a potential hazard in high winds.

The site is shady and damp, so we planted Rhododendrons and Laurel, with Hostas and a little box border. Much to our surprise they have thrived, although a sharp frost caught the Rhododendrons early this year and they did not flower. They also hated the drought in May, but I watered them copiously and fed them, and they are now showing signs of a late flowering! Watch this space…

Moving left and back up a steep part of the garden, the lawn curves round the edge of the terrace bordered by a rockery.

We planted two apples and one pear tree in 2018 and hope for fruit next year. We had some blossom in the Spring, but the birds appear to have put paid to any resulting fruit!

From this point you can see my ‘Buddleia Corner’ where – more by accident than design – I have put in cuttings from other Buddleia plants which had grown profusely, along with one which I found against the house wall when we moved here, and which I have encouraged.

Looking back up the garden from the fruit trees is one of my favourite views.

In the photo, every plant you see except for the Camelia on the left and the fern in the rockery (which has put itself there), has been planted by us. I even replanted the rockery with Persicaria (the pink spiky flowers, brought with me in a pot and first acquired from a nursery in Penrith), Hebes and the low spreading conifer whose name eludes me. When we came there were no other flower beds, no arch and no trees – the lawn was bare and a blank canvas!

Moving back towards the arch we are finishing our walk. You are looking back up the lawn at the greenhouse and the shed - which is fast disintegrating! We have taken the plunge and ordered a new shed which - because of the pandemic fall-out and thus a national shortage of sheds, will not arrive until September or October. There goes the money paid for the holiday we were unable to take in April, and fingers crossed we will get our refund as promised next month!

I can't bring the walk to an end without showing you some of the lovely flowers which have graced the garden this month. Thank you for your company, I have thoroughly enjoyed taking you round my garden and I feel less listless for so doing!

This particular blog is dedicated to our friend and neighbour Yvette, who died earlier this week aged ninety, and for whom gardens made life worth living...

June: Darkness and Light

Infinite sadness is… the death of a good friend.

When I began writing ‘Losing Time’ in earnest, Derek was the first person outside the family to listen to an extract which I read aloud to him. He was writing some poetry – unstructured, but brilliantly funny. I chose a part from early on in my book, where Helen steps through an open door in a hotel in Ireland to find herself transported into the past, and facing her father as a young man. This has always been one of my favourite moments, and my many and varied edits have changed it little – so you can still read it almost as it was when I stumbled over the words, tense with nerves, as Derek listened. The minutes which ticked past as I read were serious and important to me. Derek’s reaction would be critical to how I progressed with the book. To my amazement, he listened in silence as the scene rolled off the paper, and after I finished, he seemed surprised that I’d stopped. More astonishing was his pronouncement that it had been like ‘listening to a story on Radio 4’ and that it was good.

‘Do I go on with it?’

‘Oh yeah, yeah, yeah,’ he affirmed with a sentence he so often used when he approved of something. And so, continue I did!

The photo shows Derek in 1983, rendering a cob wall on my cottage. Friendship is the mutual recognition of an easiness between people who can comfortably discuss and debate all manner of things. For thirty years we lived in the same village as Derek and his wife and family. On occasion he would drop in on us simply to air his views on current news events, or on something he had read or listened to which he felt needed discussion. Frequently an item of news would infuriate him, and he would rage in frustration for about half an hour, finally turning the whole thing into a joke, when we would all fall about laughing. Good humour was never far away from this kind man.

And now Derek has gone. The cigarettes (etc.) took their toll on his lungs in an aggressive and horrible manner as is so often the case, but which is always so totally undeserved.

*

June ends and 2020 is half gone. The garden is coping magnificently with these odd extremes of weather, although the high winds push some of the plants into a bedraggled tangle, they soon recover. Our walk continues now with a few views of plants which have excelled themselves in June, and most importantly the roses I was given for my birthday.

'Princess Alexandra of Kent' arrived about to flower, and has burst into some extravagant heads of a stunning pink, each as perfect as the photo.

Next to it I planted 'Gabriel Oak' whose blooms are a richer, darker colour and whose scent resembles the best of rose perfumes.

The poppies have gone over now, but other tall plants are replacing them. Here are Cornflowers and 'drumstick' Alliums.

Here, in today's drizzle, are a couple of views of the now-enlarged round flowerbed in all its glory, with the 'Annabelle' Hydrangea rapidly changing colour and the roses, 'Gabriel Oak' nearest to us, as well as the Dahlias.

*

Finally, a book recommendation. 'A Rising Man' by Abir Mukherjee will plunge you into the extraordinary world that is Calcutta, almost one hundred years ago. Highly recommended it's my favourite of the year so far!

I promise to show you the other side of the garden next month. In the meantime, I hope you are coping and keeping well, and that everything will improve as we move into the second half of this strange year.

Pam and Lucy: this is for you at this difficult time. x 

Note: this link should take you to a preview of 'Losing Time', if my post has sparked your interest.

'Losing Time' on Amazon

BETWEEN SHOWERS

After several weeks of hot, dry weather we are being deluged with rain here today. I ran out between showers and caught this burst of sunlight – just before I had to run back in again! (Wish I’d managed to move the green recycling bag first...)

Luckily I managed to snap enough photos for this post, which was meant to continue our walk around the garden - now postponed. Here instead are some glimpses of how June moves the plants into new stages of growth and flowering.

First: the excitement of new Hydrangeas producing flowers. These are cuttings I took a couple of years ago. This one had been in our family for generations and will be pink when it achieves its full colour.















In contrast, this is a cutting from a blue Hydrangea purchased a few years ago, growing beautifully in a big terracotta pot of my late mother's. 















The heaviness of the showers is ruining my poppies, which I thought looked so splendid this year. Here is one managing to survive the wet.

And of course I couldn't post photos of the garden without a couple of roses, here still gorgeous despite the rain:


























At this difficult time I feel incredibly fortunate to be able to work and be in the garden. Its healing qualities for stress and depression are second to none. All of us have been experiencing moments of unhappiness and sadness in the past few months. The threat of serious illness hangs heavily, like an elephant in the room which we are all sick of. I fear this interval in our lives may continue indefinitely. There is a lethargy in the air, a kind of acquired tolerance of the situation, but also a longing for a glimpse of something more substantial, as though our lives have taken on a dreamlike quality whose mists we desperately wish to disperse. I cannot advise you how to react, but can only suggest that life tends to hold surprises - and if ever we all needed a positive, bold solution to this crisis, this would be a good time. 

My final photo brings us back to one of the most fundamental aspects of my garden: plants for the bees. Just don't ask me what this plant is, because I don't remember except that it is a rather obscure herb - and the bees love it! Look after yourselves, as ever...

RESTFUL

Today I thought you might like a little tour of my garden, photographed this morning with the early sun casting long shadows before the temperature began to rise. I don’t often post such wide views, partly because when I want to take them intrusions such as washing hanging on the line, open shed doors and wind result in disappointment. Today, though, was perfect.

This first view looks down the garden. You will notice that the entire property slopes in two directions, which can be challenging – especially with photos!

Move in closer and you will see the lilac bush flowering beautifully this year. This bush has a mind of its own, is oddly shaped and needs support, but in May its blooms make up for everything.

To the left of the Lilac the 'second round bed' holds a mature Hebe and our old Deutzia, brought from Pilgrim Cottage in a pot where it had languished for many years. This plant seems to have been rejuvenated by its position in the ground,  surviving the 'Beast from the East' a couple of years ago, and spilling its gentle blossom across and into the smaller blooms of London Pride - a gift from my late mother, which I cherish. Both my parents were keen gardeners, and this (rather dated yet still relevant) little poem aptly illustrates their attitudes and philosophy towards their gardens:

'In a garden green and gay

All my troubles fade away

Sweet contentment here I find

Joy of heart and peace of mind.' - Patience Strong

The wooden 'arch' was one of the first structures we put into this garden, and I planted roses and clematis on each side. Once the roses bloom I will post more photos. Turn back to the terrace where our predecessor planted this red azalea which is just starting to flower. The photo is taken through my clump of Camassias which have just gone over.

Turning round now, the 'first round bed' contains our Japanese dwarf cherry - not so very dwarf five years since we planted it. In this bed I put Sweet Williams - also from my mother, in gorgeous shades of dark red and pink, together with the more unusual thistle-like Cirsium 'Atropurpureum' all of which are doing well. Later in the year the pink Penstemon will try to take over, but I pruned it quite hard and I hope it will be less of a thug this year!

This ends our first walk round, saving a few areas to show you in a subsequent post and as time goes on. I will leave you with a close-up of those lovely stems of London Pride, with a Forget-Me-Not encroaching on their space! I hope you have enjoyed a restful interlude with me in the garden, and I look forward to your company again soon. Keep safe and well.

UNSTRUCTURED

‘A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.’

extract from 'Leisure', by William Henry Davis

As I write this, the sun is breaking through cloud to filter through the blind slats at my window.

Life has changed for all of us, providing an extraordinary break in time, and an opportunity to adjust our lives to a different tempo. When I stopped working as an accountant, I found myself seized with a kind of panic at the lack of structure in my days. For weeks I fretted at the apparent waste of time, watched the clock as it ticked remorselessly through ‘chargeable hours’ and tried to stop myself waiting for five o clock when I could ‘pack up and go home’! It takes a while to break the habits of a lifetime in which each day, by its very name, brings a recognised pattern.

As one twenty-four hour period merges into the next, I often forget which day I'm living in, and check the date with bleary eyes in case I miss a rare online delivery. Sleep has been difficult: heavy with disconcerting dreams and not restful.

It's easy, and probably human nature to swap one routine for another, to throw oneself into a frenzy of what the French call ‘nettoyage’ – cleaning, housework, tidying, or a massive clear-out of garages and lofts, and all those related substitutes for ‘work’. But should we not instead stop, and consider doing things differently? A change should always be regarded as an opportunity, and right now we have the leisure to sit and think, to pause a while and reflect on why our working lives have become so frantic. After this phenomenon there will not be a reset; nothing will be as it was and we need to plan for a slower, simpler life in which we hold better values.

I am guilty of overdoing things in the garden during the last few weeks, determined to sow seeds and become as productive as possible. A flower bed has been set aside for growing vegetables and the greenhouse is packed with seed trays and pots. I’ve trained and netted the fruit bushes, and searched online for French Bean seeds – on which there has, apparently, been a run. The photo shows little courgette plants growing fast.

We are definitely drinking more coffee and tea, but sitting out in the garden has been a joy and I am thankful to be able to do so. I read, and listen to audio books, but I am becoming more inclined to set aside a book which doesn't hold my attention from the beginning.

It's important to avoid anything sad or depressing during times like these, and I made two mistakes when listening to 'Sounds' on the BBC. The first was Evelyn Waugh's 'A Handful of Dust' which I had never read, and the second 'Mrs Palfrey at the Claremont' by Elizabeth Taylor, an author my mother used to admire many years ago. Both were beautifully written - but so very sad, gloomy and depressing. My favourite read this month has been 'Long Range' by the American writer C J Box. This author is a favourite. He writes about murders in Wyoming and a game warden called Joe Pickett. His descriptions of the countryside and wildlife there are quite outstanding, and I recommend giving his books a try.

Look after yourselves, my dear readers and followers. Stay positive and try to turn this quirk of fate into a time you will remember not only for its sadness, but also for its little glimpses of joy.

PRIMROSES AND CHOCOLATE SAUCE

THIS IS A TIME for sharing, so today as well as having reduced the price of my first book ‘Losing Time’ to just under half price, I’m going to publish an old family recipe for everyone to enjoy. We all need treats at a time like this.

This recipe, for Chocolate Sauce to be poured over Ice Cream, originated from a friend of my mother’s and I’ve forgotten how long ago I first began to use it. You need to be quick at serving it, because it turns to a kind of toffee when the hot sauce hits the freezing ice cream.

The method is simple and you need only three basic ingredients:

• Butter – approx. 60 gm (2 oz)
• Golden Syrup – approx. 1 – 2 large tablespoons
• Cocoa (not drinking chocolate) – approx. 1 – 2 large tablespoons
• Optional: a few drops of vanilla essence

The measurements are approximate, because I have never actually written this down before. This quantity will serve about 3 people, depending upon how greedy you are.

This is what you do: simply measure all the ingredients into a small saucepan and heat gently, stirring all the time until a smooth, warm sauce appears. Be careful not to cook for too long, because it will go like glue and be useless.
Pour immediately over bowls of very cold ice cream – any flavour will do, but simple vanilla is gorgeous. Serve at once!

PRIMROSES AND THE GARDEN

The garden is awash with primroses again this year. Our lawn, springy with moss, has had its first mow – simply because its rampant growth needed to be curtailed. The blossom on the ornamental cherry has just about faded and fallen, but the huge Camelia bush has surprised us with a riot of pink blooms. There is much to do when the weather improves. I tried edging a flower bed the other day, but the soil is claggy and heavy with moisture, and my knees became quite soggy as dampness seeped through my garden kneeler. I gave up!



BOOKS TO READ

Should you need book recommendations (other than ‘Losing Time’ of course,) I have read three excellent novels so far this year. I can recommend all three:

• The City of Brass by S. A. Chakraborty – a fantasy novel. My review in brief: ‘This is an extraordinary book! If you love fantasy and are tempted by something completely different, a breath of 'Arabian Nights' meets Scheherazade but even more fantastic, then - like me - you won't be able to put this down.’ 
• Bury Them Deep by James Oswald – a thriller. The tenth in an unforgettable series of suspense thrillers. Unputdownable!
• The Long Call by Ann Cleeves – a thriller. This is the first in a new series by popular writer Ann Cleeves. It is based in North Devon, and wonderfully written, a powerful novel.

Of course, if you haven’t read LOSING TIME why not give it a try – but hurry, because the offer is only for a short time. Here’s the link https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B016X4HXCE

These are dark times for some of us, and the tip of the iceberg for a few. Here are a couple of lines which have brought me comfort in the past, and I hope they will help you too.

A brief quote from Shelley: 

'O Wind,

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?'

And this from Dame Julian of Norwich (b. 1342):

“All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.”