Letters to garden makers

Home I've been on a journey with 'The Songlines' by Bruce Chatwin - our journey took us North from Coal to Slate and back. Steam coal and slate River valleys Falls Sea Here at home now  I fall most days like the leaves Bright But I fall upwards To the light Paul

Dear reader and Monty, It is good to see that the value of being in nature is being recognised in the realms of health care. That there is movement toward acknowledging our intimate link to everything that exists. I gave thanks today that I am able to step out into a garden, that the shapes and colours that are there create a space that speaks to my innermost being. I love the evocative smell of Autumn - the fruitiness - the musky mustiness of berries overipening in the sun, of the smell of leaves when they fall and begin to decay - of pine needles and damp soil. I feel truly connected to a great benevolence. Paul

It has been a long time since I tapped words into this machine - I had thought that it was time to stop because I am just repeating myself. But like the grapes, it has been a time of fermenting in the sun. This 58th year of life's journey has been one of reflection on our vulnerability and realising the only wrath in this world is of our/my own making. I can choose to be angry and unconscious of my own ego and weaknesses or I can become aware - acknowledge them and choose to deal with the negativity. The only wrath around here is what comes from within myself - it is far better to give way to peace. The garden acts as a place for contemplation - the walled space created by the mixed hedges has become for me a place to heal the soul. That may sound glib but I'm afraid it works for me. Autumn is a melancholic month, leaves leaving the trees, fruity scents and robin song all speak of gathering in - preparing for the colder months. The colour in this gar

Dear reader, Home again at the start of astronomical summer. The days get shorter now I am short Diminutive I have diminutive thoughts Thoughts that lead nowhere Then I remember that the quest is over I no longer need to search for rest Rest is here In the deep parts of the earth I am earth bound But this is not a bad thing Heaven can be here Even if tied up Locked in a sparrow Waiting to be freed from our despoiling dominion A honey bee feeds on bramble flowers Then I see many honey bees - the same species I saw earlier in the year Very very dark almost black abdomen This wild patch - this cheap garden Has riches beyond posh hard landscaping Jealousy is such an empty vessel ! I search for rest in the wrong places And when I stop searching I find it In a black bodied bee On an overgrown slope At the edge of my garden. Paul.

Dear reader, You might be suffering from garden overload  after watching the extensive coverage of the Chelsea Flower Show on the BBC. We were reminded by Monty Don that these are show gardens and therefore cannot approximate to real gardens in terms of their longevity. The plants used are straight from nurseries where they would have been cajoled into flowering or being at their peak. In my real garden - the plants have to deal with weather, pests and me the garden maker. There was a distinct trend towards naturalism this year - so that cheered me up somewhat - one thing my garden is is naturalistic - it is weedy - but intentionally so - for the insects. I put up with the so called pests because they are food for the birds. So if you want to see a garden that has been made for the insects and birds - and for humans to sit in and relax, to hide away and think - then come to the Coal Tip Cloister Garden and Rhos Y Bedw in Ystalyfera and help raise money for nursing charities.

Dear reader,  I am a fan of imperfection. Paving at the entrance to The Veddw I had the privilege of visiting The Veddw a couple of weeks ago. I love this garden created by Anne Wareham and Charles Hawes, it is unique, unlike any other garden that I have visited in the UK. The garden is full of reflection - reflection on the history of the land, reflection in the form of hedges mirroring the shape of the hills, and reflection of the sky and trees in the reflecting pool. This year there is the addition of reflecting balls on pillars in the meadow, a brave replacement for diseased trees. I think they work well and fit in with the ethos of the garden. What fascinated me is that you get to see yourself in the space. The garden works in an architectural way. The plants are integral to the architecture. There are a lot of 'invasive' plants, which to my mind unify the spaces. It is not perfect - in the sense that there are 'weeds'

Dear Reader, Yesterday I had the amazing opportunity to read pages of Derek Jarman's diaries from his time at Prospect Cottage, which are part of an exhibition called 'Phytopia' at Swansea's Glynn Vivian Art Gallery. I have been thinking of ghosts, the ghosts of plants the hauntology of the landscape moving from death to life. Jarman's garden on the Kent coast was of its place. This is 'my' place - I live on the hill at this images centre Jarman wrote passionately. He wrote of his garden, of his impending death and his beautiful life -the warmth of the sun on skin, passionate love, suffering and painful beauty. Ghosts of Ivy Perhaps I should not perpetuate the so called myth of the romantic artist - but Jarman was no myth. Ghost garden slowly reincarnating The arrangement of objects that he found on the shingle beach, arranged in cabinets were the ghosts of his authorial eye. Cast in bronze the acanthus flower stem l