Letters to garden makers

Dear Monty, Leaves glow like stained glass. There is a warmth to Autumn that despite the thinning and falling - creates a sense of joy - berries and pine scents  - honeysuckled gloaming. The garden rescues me again from rabid thoughts - toxic attitudes - negativity. Cleaning up leaves raking the thinning grass I begin to see structure sparking new plans. The architecture of artemisia lactiflora begs division and multiplication. The newly revealed beds cry out for a mix of plants to form a block of differing height and texture. The evening draws in - my minds eye draws new spaces and new structures - planes and hollows. Trees to cut back - revelations. Paul

Dear Monty, I have heard you quote 'the law of diminishing returns' as a way of justifying the cutting back of flowering plants. I have been thinking about this and see that diminishing also applies to me as a human being and also to the change of the season from summer to autumn and on into winter. I diminish I grow older The sun sinks lower Autumn comes ------------------ Supper Around a table we discuss beauty We see each other as we are We decide we do not know how to define it But there are common threads To do with balance - harmony - form - structure Connectedness Indian summer Winter longs to break in Bone showing through the thinning skin of the year I hope not to appear foolish Beauty - lust - hedges - towers Life in all its tumult Art is a reflection of living It tries to make sense of the senseless That is what makes it beautiful Paul With thanks to Anne Wareham and Charles Hawes  vedd...

Dear Monty, From Waun Fawr Longmeadow looked lovely last night - edited and framed as it was by low angles. I have not tuned in to the new radio series of 'Shared Planet' yet, but understand the concerns that are highlighted and which drive us to find solutions. On a walk with Charles Hawes from Forest Coal Pit to Waun Fawr on the Black Mountains we contemplated the fate of our species and this planet we think we dominate - our conclusion was the inexorable drive towards human catastrophe! Cheering thought. It in no way phased us that we seemed to agree that we can do little - and we continue to piss into the gale - even though it splashes back in our faces. We laughed but not in an arrogant and ignorant way - we laughed because of the recognition of the fact that the universe and this planet will continue and change - we are but a destructive blip in the vastness of time. Charles Mountains and vistas Monks and mysteries Culture and ethnicity We w...

Dear Monty, I had a good weekend at the National Botanic Garden of Wales. The gardens are like a lung, there is an exchange of gases that takes place. Stress and weariness exchanged for rest and reflection. The Orchid Festival  Orchid scent and flowery people The gardens misted in an early Autumn cloak Quiet of butterflies. I did not sell any paintings - but I met some fascinating people with stories to tell both mystic and mundane, all had a love of nature, of plants and of art. Ideas were exchanged and contacts made. Polly O'Leary pollyoleary.co.uk  displayed beautiful original watercolours of botanical art.(I'm now a happy custodian of one of them) I feel excited - there are new ideas for my garden and artwork - all this a result of meeting new people and keeping in touch with good friends - of debating and discussing - of laughter and sorrow. Paul.

Dear Monty, The first egg of the morning The first grapes eaten by the chickens as a reward The first red admiral The first robin with his autumnal song. The first motorbike off-roading on the coal tip The first argument in the street The first barking of dogs The first vacuum cleaning of the day. Champions - Where are they ? Are they at they at the NATO summit ? Are politicians really the deciders of our fate ? What is the beauty of the morning ? Who is the bright and morning star ? Lift up your heads o you gates. I sit under my pagoda on my throne - surrounded by a drifting ethereal snow of willow herb seeds. I look up at mackerel clouds drifting towards Obama and the heads of state. John Kingdon once commented that the coal tip garden looks like a haven of peace. Yet unsilenced trial bikes fill the air with loud farts, and neighbours fire up electronic gardening tools and petrol driven mowers. The dog breeders chiwawa's snap, ...

Dear Monty, 23/8/14  Like a spoilt child; my mood was unbendingly fractious. The root was selfishness - a hard weed to grub out - even if you tug - it snaps and regrows. 24/8/14  Inwardly I wept - deep sighing sobs for the simple beauty of glistening blue hydrangea florets randomly growing through the blue-green leaves of the hypericum, a blending not of conscious will but a small miracle of early light and dew, and a lack of pruning. I like the slightly indistinct photos that my phone produces, but this does not capture the blue I was speaking of. I am leaning towards blending rather than creating specimens in trophy cabinets, and anyway the garden seems to lend itself to this, just like the coal tip above. Blending may seem on first glance to be a dangerous strategy - the distinctiveness of the plant lost, and indeed the risk of etiolation and the weakening of the plant making it more vulnerable to disease. But 'It ain't necessarily so' as the song r...

Dear Monty,       The year whips past at speed, taking time out of time I contemplate the coal tip garden and the upcoming Orchid Festival at :  gardenofwales.org.uk  6th and 7th Sept. This time I am not alone, I shall be in the company of the talented botanical artist  Polly O'Leary :   blog.pollyoleary.co.uk . I met Polly last year and she took time to have a chat and visit my stand, if you come along you are in for a treat. Inspiration came this past week from watching a programme on BBC 4 about Chinese art. Watching that somehow connected me to heaven. The flow of a calligrapher's brush on the paper scroll - the sheer beauty of it - a humble and contemplative act carried out like a ballet - a visual dance. It seemed like a connection from spirit to hand and from hand to paper. Unlike this laboured work - I can only see the cairn as a pimple now (thanks to Anne Wareham X) I also sung a song of joy and melancholy readi...