Finding old shards of pottery amongst the plants as I dug over a flowerbed last week, I thought about the number of people before me that must have done the same thing in this garden. Digging the soil. Making it new. Adding, and taking away.
I thought of the children that must have played on this lawn and climbed the old pear trees. The keen gardeners who have sought quiet sanctuary. The birthday parties and family gatherings that have been celebrated in this garden. There’s a lot of history here, rooted into the earth.
This old garden of mine is well established; full of fruit trees, flowering shrubs, rose bushes and swathes of lavender.
I’ve seen it through every season now. The camellia blooming in early Spring, providing bright pops of colour with their loosely petalled blooms. The pale purple of the lavender, perfuming the air in Summer. The golden…
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