Sunday, 2 October 2016


Dear Monty,

I notice that gardening is being promoted as being good for both physical and mental health, now while I agree with this - I do think it should be pointed out to prospective garden makers - that it can also be fraught with anxiety.

My anxiety fluctuates like the seasons.

Yesterday the light was such that the structure of the garden - even a harmonious rhythm, spoke peace to my inner man, but today it seems to have gone ! How can that be?
Is light playing tricks with me?

Unlike you I do not have much flower colour in the garden, most of the colour is provided by leaves, and I suppose this may be the problem.

Nevertheless - how good it is when it does work - Yesterday was a moment of heaven.
I tried to capture it in a sketch and photograph - words cannot describe why I felt so at ease with it.


Sunday, 18 September 2016

A bit scattered

Dear Monty,

I persist in writing to you - I do apologise.

There is a time for everything under the sun.

I so often miss the timing because my mind is full of scattered thoughts.
I think we need time for reflection and observation.
It is said that seeing is believing - but sometimes it takes eyes that open to that place beyond our usual level of conciousness in order to see and believe.

Today a dragonfly dark and mysterious landed on my head. Its wings clacked as it came to rest on my thinning crown.
How awesome to be able to hear its wings, as awesome as the Autumn song of the robin and the scattering of leaves in the low light.

Some scatterings.


Sunday, 11 September 2016

11th Day, blue skies

Dear Monty,

Blue skies

How death eats us up
These fruitful minds which outstrip our bodies.
We think we fly above it
Yet it stalks us like a hunter in the shadows.

Give me sparrows in the hedge
Give me the plaintive Robin
And angled light through strap-like leaves.
Give me loving kindness as long as I can give it in return.
There is the rub.
Kindness in the face of knowledge.
Stepping down - giving way is so hard to do.

We are given so much that is unmerited.

Flowers give hoverflies nectar and pollen for their pad-like mouths
The flowers on the duvet cover hanging on the line give me sustenance.
A pattern against the hedge - over the throne I never sit on.

Give me a happy hound with wagging tail
Chickens pecking at this year's grapes
The last flush of red foliage
Dappled and appled.

Autumn stalks in and brings mellow melancholy to my heart
Oh I wish I was dead to my passions
Or at least sleeping peacefully.


Monday, 5 September 2016

Falling in love again, what am I to do ?

Dear Monty,

As the debate continues about the hour long GW, I remember why I love this garden.

Today it is shrouded in mist and I fall in love with the garden all over again.
I love the end of summer stillness, its berries and call for re-definition.
I love the last splashes of colour
And the re-imagining of its future.
New plans for the planting
New seeds from friends
Inspiration from grander gardens.

The coal tip cloister

My imagination


Even on rainy days at The National Botanic Garden of Wales


Sunday, 21 August 2016

The lonely particle

Dear Monty,

It's rare that I post 2 letters to you on one weekend,
but having heard a piece of music entitled 'The Lonely Particle' on Radio 3 yesterday morning - it hit a spot within me which produced a series of thoughts - stream of consciousness if you like. I share this not because it is a great or clever piece of writing but because it is the only way I know how to  release it from within.

We are all built of particles, elements, salts, fluids.
Within this mysterious biology is a lonely particle on its journey through time and space.
Deep within us it seeks to be connected to something that shines
That is not dulled by other elements
Or faded
Or broken.

How can this particle find its home
Its rest
Its target
Its completeness, in a world of forced separation and violent disintegration perpetrated by human against human
Blood for blood
Bone for bone ?

Though remote from the horror they sit in fortresses and palaces
Foreign or familiar.

Oh where does this end ?

Look to the end of violence in the violence perpetrated by men against a man because of the light contained within him.
The lonely particle finds its home there.

Have no time for organisations
For man-made systems of control.
Have no time for hierarchy
For those that Lord it over you - who find your place for you and keep you there.

Have no time for fragmentation or disintegration
Find the light and stay in it
Shelter in it
Be held in it
No harm is there
No brutality
No hate
Not even my hatred
No partiality
Not even my partiality
No judgement
No, not even mine.


Today I read how Helen MacDonald described her encounter with a goshawk in an article in the Guardian - 'seeing the goshawk .....was the start of my education, the start of understanding the difference between knowing something and feeling it deep in your bones.'

For me that describes the journey of the lonely particle, sometimes it bumps into the light.


Saturday, 20 August 2016

Having wind in the garden

Dear Monty,

Do you suffer from wind ?

I'm suffering from a storm of names swirling in my head.

Vlinderhof ?


Piet Kingsbury Maryberry


My name


My black back garden





Wind in my housen

Wind in my Garten

Are you smiling smugly in your hedged haven ?

My small garden is wind whipped today in contrast to a whippets rest in sunshine just at the start of the week.


Sometimes in my eyes - satisfying

Sometimes annoying.

Gardens remind me of Isra -el

I struggle with the power in this life-force.

Slash cut clear

Grow flop fear

Is it good enough ?

It's good enough for me

But it could be better.


Monday, 8 August 2016

Pish to thee Monty

Dear Monty,

Again I say pish.

I was scorned for planting bedding begonias (2 quid a tray from Homebargins) in some of my pots and borders. I admit to panic buying them shortly before opening for the NGS in June.

I had little colour in the garden, which under normal circumstances wouldn't bother me that much but I felt obliged to offer just a little.
Some - who shall be nameless - mocked my efforts. Deservedly so - it was a rushed and mad idea which really wasn't me , or so I thought.

But pish ! I now like them because they are picking up the red of the new flame -tipped growth of the Norway maple, and just look right ! There I said it.

I know you have been down right rude about begonias Monty - and it seems this may be one of the rare occasions when the co - maker of The Veddw agrees with you.

In life it seems so much easier to accept the infinite variety of taste.

I like saying pish.