Every time I see these Fuchsia and Salvia cuttings, I feel a little warm glow inside, because human beings are generous, and like to share their blessings.
My favourite winter job in the garden is MULCHING. Just the word is delightful. Like squelching, but warmer and snugglier.
The cutting patch was carted off in a wheelbarrow in October. The bright border went out with a bang in November. But the rose garden has partied on, owning the dancefloor into December.
I am a ‘colour pop’ kind of a girl. But occasionally, with a light frost, I am forced to focus on the neutrals. With the aid of my new book all about colour, I can now distinguish my buff from my fawn!
The day didn’t start off promisingly. Rather than a luminous dawn, it was murky and dank. I awoke to the drip-drip of rain coming in through the leaky bedroom window. Even the dogs were unenthusiastic about going out into the garden. This bench has never looked less inviting. No one wants to come out…
The veins of leaves and the networks of bare branches remind us of our own connection with the Universe. We are all interlaced. We are all important.
We tend to focus on colour in autumn, but it is also a change in form that I notice. Leaves thin out, filtering sunlight. Each leaf is holding on by a thread. They spin on their stalks, catching the light. It is like the garden is strung with fairy lights.
A post about how the dark times we go through help us to appreciate the moments of lightness…
My vision for my bright border is a firework display of colour, with exploding shapes and textures. But is it still popping by November?
I remember finding the image of Miss Haversham rather thrilling. Her abandon of social convention. Her total neglect of housework. Her cunning.
Being outdoors, pottering in the garden, listening to the birds, noticing colours and textures and patterns, enjoying a cup of tea… These are all forms of self-care. They are nurturing for my soul. Self-care brings clarity. I am refreshed, and can see things more clearly.
Sissinghurst in October is a gentle place. There is space for quiet contemplation and restoration of the spirits.