Letters to garden makers

Dear Monty, Do you ever feel living life is a bit like being on a rolling sea ? Today is a misty wet dull day of drooping foliage in the garden unlike last Wednesday which was bright warm and dry. The garden , the weather and my spirit seem inextricably linked somehow. One thing I am acutely aware of is the riches involved in being a garden 'owner'. I put owner in brackets because we really only inhabit and alter these spaces for such a brief time. What follows is a diary recording of the sunny day that was 11/7/17. A brief window of blue sky - waiting for the grass to dry. I see the wren mouse-like creep between the shrubs and it brings a sense of unbridled joy to my turbulent heart. Turbulent with waves of self doubt. A beetle I have never seen before - a dub nosed rounded beetle with a carapace like velvet - brown and  iridescent alternately as it moves. It appears to be soft and downy - but is as hard backed as any beetle. I try to photograph it with my i

Dear Monty, Moor Rig I have lost count of how many letters I have written to you. I have changed a lot in the intervening years, and so has my garden and how I now see it. We all know that gardens are in a constant state of flux. I have just read Anne Wareham's post on her website veddw.com  where she has posted photographs from the same window over a year, and it is great to see that waxing and waning, growing and changing, a reflection of our own lives. coal tip cloister This year my small garden has reached a level of maturity, and the cloistered effect I was after has become more obvious. The new beds have filled out remarkably quickly but now give more solidity to the space and provide alternative viewpoints which were sorely needed. I still have doubts about how good a garden it is - but then I have doubts about all kinds of things, whether I'm really an artist, whether I am a good example to others etc etc. I have just returned from 2