Sunday, April 15, 2007

A secret garden


Lovely day. 22 degrees C in the shade of the catslide.

Planted peas and parsley.

Visited a garden which, along with its keepers, is so vulnerable that it's whereabouts should remain a secret. Nature is reclaiming the beds, borders, orchards and bowers laid out by worthy Victorian clergymen to feed the bodies and souls of their burgeoning famillies. I walked on lawns of primrose and cowslip under bridal white blossom - ghosts of yesteryear around each corner. A wilderness. Gates hung askew. Roses whipped unkempt off drunken pergolas. Nettles threatened ankles. Sweet birds sang.

Its elderly owners; fragile as that blossom, skin as papery-fine and bones as twig-like, hovered - put out of place by their invited guests. Their garden's deshabille so matter of fact - they and it in glorious decline together. A breathe of wind could blow them to paradise were they not there already.

4 comments:

~willow~ said...

hi there! found your blog courtesy of Little Neo's directory. Really enjoyed reading your thoughts, you've a great way with words. Cheers!
~willow~

mountainear said...

Thank you for your kind words. It's always good to get some feedback.

mutterings and meanderings said...

A beautifully written description of what must be a truly beautiful place...

Mopsa said...

asparagus progress happily shared. Although we have heaps of native primroses, the cowslips are in hiding - I will wave your piccy around to encourage them!