Letters to garden makers

Monty, Dark clouds, a ship and weeds. I had thought the dark clouds that have been with me all week were following me to Aberavon, but we walked Aberavon seafront in sunshine, the sea breeze blowing the clouds from my mind. We let our whippet Toff run on the sand at the breakwater end of the bay, and like my past catching up with me I watched a ship slide into the channel along the riverbed. Back in the garden the sun continues to shine, and with renewed hope I see cloisters and coal measure fossils - I see possibilities. I recognise a movement in gardening away from rigid formality. I loved the roof garden shown on GW, and the small enclosed garden in the West End with the beautiful structural 'weeds'. I have noticed today a plantain that has grown to its full potential in amongst the marjoram, its leaves as big and beautiful as a hosta but with fewer slug holes - mmmm...now there's a thought ! I do like some formality in a garden however, and sad thou...

Dear Monty, Not much to say other than enjoying the sunshine and drawing the garden. I don't have many flowers but it is surprising how much colour there is. Paul

Monty, "As we get older we realise that the days are more precious and half-moments of intense joy are more valuable than jewels" ( The Jewel Garden, Hodder)  I agree, but I wonder where that intensity comes from, and how it sustain us ? I say this because of something my son said about there not being any solitude or time for quiet contemplation whilst we were climbing up Snowdon, which was full of people seeking something from the mountain. One thing though - there was a sense of common aim a unity - and complete strangers found words of encouragement to help us get to the cloud covered top. I seem to be doing a lot of walking, perhaps I really do have to keep moving. I confess my sin of believing in God, I know he is unpopular and our belief of him has caused wars and rumours of wars, and also created a kind of ignorance of science and 'fact' based knowledge, but joy in the human heart ? Where does that come from and why do we look for joyo...

Dear Monty, Bees in the fireplace, insoles and angry pilgrimage walking. This all started innocently enough, this writing of letters to you. It was done with genuine intent, to communicate how much I love my small and insignificant back garden. I just wanted to talk about it with someone who would understand the great therapeutic value of actively making and sculpting a garden, slowly over time. What has made me slightly uneasy however, is the statement by Alain de Botton, who said that anyone who wants strangers to be friends has an illness !                                                                  The insignificant coal-tip cloister garden I ha...

Dear Monty,  I have decided to continue writing to you about gardens and life. This is a brief ode to Charles Hawes: Orchids  rushes  grasses  ferns Towers of concrete - pipes and bridges Cathederal-like arched roofs and windows  - Victorian and modern Mans industry The diverted river The estuary mouth The curve of sand. We talked of gardens of history of religion We saw the sand not stopped The legs of women And sculpted towers. We spoke of the vastness and diversity of life Of things not seen Of things felt The earth moves like the cars We all return to dust - but there is beauty in the living. We have to keep moving. Paul.