To everything there is a season …
There are some people who would say that every blogger’s post is self-indulgent, but today’s post particularly is as I have written it knowing that I will be able to look back on in it in the future and remember – and for that I make no apology.
When big daughter was very small, I retrained as a gardener and one of my first clients was a lovely lady who had an equally lovely and very large Victorian walled garden. Fifteen years later, the lady has sold her house and is moving on, and today was my last visit to the walled garden when I have spent very many hours in all kinds of weather. We always knew this day was coming and it’s absolutely the right thing for her to be doing, but it’s still sad to know that the season has changed and something has come to an end.
I usually visited twice a year in the spring and the autumn; at either time the sun could be shining or the rain could be coming in horizontally. I have been sunburnt and I have dripped home looking as if I have had a bath in my clothes.
I have wrestled with various plant pests and diseases, I have rescued crushed plants from beneath one of the walls when it fell down. I have seen the magnificent magnolia tree – bigger than any I have ever seen – in glorious flower, and the forsythia looking like a bright yellow beacon at the end of the garden.
I have watched families of robins nest in the ivy, and a sleek red urban fox race from one side of the garden to the other, effortlessly leaping the walls between the gardens. I have stood for long moments whilst baby robins pecked at the ground next to my boots, hardly daring to breathe in case they flew away.
I have listened to the radio; plays, news, music, talk shows … they have all kept me company whilst I have worked; clearing, digging, planting.
I have sat on the bench with my tea-break cup of tea made for me by the lovely lady who owns the garden and turned my face up to the sunshine. Sometimes I have sat in the garage and watched the rain drip off the door frame.
I have planted geraniums every year, bright red and bright pink which have always lasted far longer than the ones in my garden, sheltered by the wall and the tall, tall trees which grow in this garden and adjoining ones. This garden will always be about the geraniums for me.
Today, I said goodbye. I’m rubbish at goodbyes.