I check my phone and realise it is the 21st of June. The shortest day. I made it. Knowing this I immediately start looking for signs that the light is changing and whilst I know it is impossible but I am sure on the morning of the 22nd of June when I stroll to work just after 7.30 am, that it is lighter than it has felt the week before. I know it is not true but I still admire the cool blue sky emerging against dark black outline of naked trees. A small bubble of joy forms and I think spring is one step closer.

My garden also feels like I do, perhaps a touch optimistic. A anemone planted in mid Autumn in a pot is in flower as too are bunches of snowdrops. The delicious crimson pink hellebore is flowering away but then it has been doing that for the past month. I check other hellebore and am greeted with tiny tight buds that always look like a they are going to start talking to me with their oval pointed heads. I see buds forming on the lilac as I stroll past. Things are beginning to stir.

I have been thinking about winters and cold and what it means. I wonder about periods of time in life when we grow and when we are dormant and I think about cold stratification. Some seeds I brought are currently in the fridge next to the cheese quietly chilling, as too are the tulip bulbs (not next to the cheese they have quietly taken over half shelf elsewhere in the fridge). The process of a very cold period to start growth feels relatable as I too have felt the coolness of winter start to chill my bones and while I usually welcome the respite from doing that winter brings, this year felt different. I seemed to have stepped back a bit and sense that the sharp cool air was giving me something else. As the days unfold and the poppy seedlings by the window grow a millimeter more I wonder if the cold this year is what I needed to perhaps crack a hard shell I had unconsciously built up just from day to day living. Maybe a bit of cold is just what I need.

With much love

Mel

There is a tree across the valley which I think I have just noticed for the first time. It is the shape of child’s drawing - a circular bush shape of a rusty orange. It is very luminous in the soft Autumn light, the only colour as most of the leaves of it’s tree siblings have fallen. I can’t say I have noticed them fade away this year. It is one of my favourite things to watch unfold, this seasonal change in tree form. I think I clocked in too early when April was first spoken on my lips now it is June and I have looked up, missing most of the seasonal change, except for one. I can’t stop seeing it now.

As I step outside it is too warm. Like freaky warm and thoughts of snowflakes dance into my head, I wonder if there will be a sudden weather change. It is late in the afternoon, after 5pm and I am optimistically holding my camera in my hand. I take photos amazed that I am capturing something forgetting that I put the ISO on automatic. It is negotiating with the light for me. Flower beds that were once full of flowers are now bare. I cut back the frost burnt dahlias and have chopped their stalks and dried seed heads to form a mulch over the tubers that will remain in the soil. I like the cycle of it, of their composting the soil to help support the growth of the season to come. I can’t wait until they are back.

Atlas trots past, bone in his mouth. Five minutes later my eye catches him trotting across the lawn, no bone, later still he appears again, different direction once again with bone. I think he has moved it about 4 times and when we head inside I have no idea where he has buried it. No doubt it will be an argument later when Eos finds it and declares it hers. Both boy dogs do not argue with her when she has claimed such a thing. I carry on my work, weeding a small bed that holds two roses, one red and one white, along with come spring, Solomon seal and Italian parsley. It is weird collection of plants that has evolved on it’s own. The roses have been here longer than I in this garden. I add some sweet peas that have sprouted, the loo rolls standing proud of the soil so that I know who they are. I pop some poppy seedlings in just to see what happens. Iris tips have pierced the soil. It feels too early.

The three day weekend invites a call sheet of work. Dahlias are removed from pots and cleaned to be stored for the “winter”. The empty pots will soon be filled with the many tulips that are currently residing in the fridge. I chop back anything where I can see has growth coming through and the seeds have been spent. I try and keep seed heads for birds and it has become one of my favourite thing over the Autumn to watch finches and wax eyes steal this nourishment in a flit of a dance. The sky this evening stretches and looms, in steels of grey and blue. It feels like something is coming. I collect the bone dry washing, plan what we are going to have for dinner and welcome the idea of a drop of rain. A story in itself.

with much love

Mel

It’s Sunday night and I scooping up thoughts. The garden for the weekend was a passing glance as I walked up the path to and from the house. Family was visiting, they were my focus. In the delight of it all my mind drifted elsewhere. It nervously circled around ideas that I have been quietly peculating on over the month. I hope they have formed something that when spoken allowed makes sense to another mind, perhaps yours? Shall I share and see where it takes us. To give background, I have joined an art group called The Art Lab. It is a global group of mainly photographers who each a month research an artist and then we create something that is inspired or is connected to the artist work. This is my first run and it was great. The artist was Bridget Riley, a 1960’s pop artist. Naturally I wanted to feature flowers or the garden somehow but I was presented with an artist whose work is abstracted in shape and form so I must admit I was super curious at the start of the month to figure out where this was going to land. It didn’t seem like an obvious connection - abstract art and flowers but the more I learnt about Bridget the more I connected to the motion and colour in her work and what I see in the garden.

There is something delicious about discovering a new artist - I love the research and making a connection, the curiosity of it and the questioning. For me I liked the challenge of learning, exploring and digging deeper to find a connect to this artist which seemed worlds away from my garden at the bottom of Aotearoa, NZ. Would I be able to find a thread to pull that would lead to something I could create? After the initially snuffle around on the internet, the reading of the course materials and then the simple google search “Bridget Riley flowers” followed by the first class zoom call and I could see ideas forming shape. Bridget created a work called Roses -so she liked flowers and had capture the movement, sensation & colour of the rose. I can relate to that and then I found her words and I think that was when I kinda fell hard. To read artist thoughts and expression as they create I always find so much inspiration, connection, expression, guidance. I collected scrapes of paper and scribbled notes on colour, shape and light and sensation. The sensation of walk in nature. Ideas began to form.

All the while as I collected and connected, dahlias where fading and I wanted to captured those last few beauties of the season. The shapes spoke to me in a language that felt like Bridget talked and whilst I had lofty dreams of wanting to replicate and create I knew for the moment time and talent meant an annotation of these thoughts. Keep it simple and so I did. Many photos over many days of blur and shape and movement as the dahlia’s picked form the garden shift in shape and colour. I was capturing them as they faded out for the season. I thought of the word extreme which a class mate mentioned as there source of inspiration and I added the idea of observation, stillness which spoke to another. It was vast becoming a well of inspiration and I was delighting in staring deep into the pool of it.

And then there was the simple joy of realising it was all connected, Bridget’s words, my class mates words and what I was creating and it was filling my soul in a deep way (note I wrote soil instead of soul which I think fits as well). I stretched out the colours when editing, I layered up the images to make lines and curves of petals and colour. I made a gallery to hold in your hand so you focused on what to look at. I made a wonky film to show how it works. I nervously shared with my class mates (and you) and felt satisfied regardless of the response. It was an exploration in play and learning and connecting, all things that are vital to living a life well.

With much love

Mel

The weekend starts with a frost conversation - the outdoor wooden table glowing white, the air still and silent. Dogs snuffle about hunting smells from adventures had in the garden overnight. I do wonder what stories they are told and never share. A morning frost brings with it two things. One, a sunny day which is always welcome. Two the prompt that the time to complete Autumn planting should really be done. So once the Saturday morning chores are completed and Chocolate Hazelnut pastries have been consumed I am out, trowel in hand, weeding corners of the garden to plant a few little treasures that need to have roots in the soil before it becomes too cold.

The array of plants are the most recent purchase from Hands in Dirt and a few Salvias that I brought from the local botanical gardens. The salvias which are blue/black, are planted where I have planted salvias before - I am determined that the two new additions will survive. The area where they are planted seems to be a space the dogs like to trample through for various reasons so I will need to keep an eye on them to ensure success. Across the path I add some of my Hands in Dirt treasure. A couple of Potentilla Nepalensis - Roxana. Potentilla are a new to me plant for this season. Two deep red Potentilla were planted in the spring of 2025 and were beloved by bees which in turn made them beloved by me. I also added a Salvia Nutans and note that I should get a support for the collapsing Cafe Latte Dahlia who is still flowering. Imagine how stunning she would be standing upright next summer.

I move to the bed that runs along the path by the house and add sprouted sweet peas to pots that sit hidden amongst the thyme and then weed the clover, replacing it with a pale pink aster from another bed that I hope will creep and mingle with the thyme and become a carpet of bee friendly flowers. The bed itself is a tapestry of things that I have been adding over the summer - I figure that it will sort and settle itself over the coming months so why not add a few new treasures. Lychnis Chalcedonic Carnes and Catananche Caerulea - I write these lovely latin names but in my head it is the blue floaty thing and the pink pretty up right thing and they are planted with the soundtrack of “I wonder what is going to happen with these guys’ in my head.

The mood of the morning changes and I realise I have done enough. The green bin is filled and the kettle is boiling, my mind thinking I will move the plant later. I will pick up the errant cabbage fronds scattered on the lawn later. I will leave the remaining few cosmos and dahlias to flower and seed. The roses I am grateful that they are having another flush. I am smile with amusement at the overgrown riot that is the small pale pink Chrysanthemum that should have been chopped back earlier in the season but I didn’t and now it is a mass of crazy blooms. The garden sinks further and further into it’s hibernation each day as the temperatures drop. I feel ready to step away and let it go. Missing the flowers that were but knowing that without a winter there can be no true and full appreciation of summer.

with much love

Mel

A friend and I were discussing what we were up to and I mentioned the I had been ‘just pottering about’. She delighted in this expression and I delighted in delighting her. At this time of the year I think the idea of pottering away is the perfect expression for how to garden in Autumn. For example, most Saturday mornings we have a set routine. Farmers Market, Butcher (every second weekend), Bakery for morning tea pastries (Big lizard hazelnut chocolate thank you), dog walk, home. The Saturday just passed for various reasons rather than our regular scheduled plans, I found myself in the garden on Saturday morning before 10 am. I think I might have created perhaps a new routine for the coming winter months. I mentally checked the to do list and then promptly abandoned it instead to ‘potter away’ in the garden moving from one task to another as the mood took me. While pottering in the still of early morning I thought how the sounds in the garden have changed. Instead of the hum of bees it is the melody of the bellbird accompanying me, interrupt by the odd ‘look at me’ chirp of a pīwakawaka.

The air is fresh at this time of the morning with the ground squelching under my feet as I trod across the lawn. I head to the bottom of the garden and the singing lawn reminds me I should start clearing the paths so that we use them rather than the lawn. I’m heading to the large concrete trough that sits under the Rhoddies along the fence line. The Solomon seal is fading into shades of bight yellow and acid green, falling apart if you touch them, melting back into the soil until spring. I weed the trough and discover that there are poppy seedlings starting to emerge along with a few ranunculus from last season. I replant an errant corm as I plant my new purchased additions of ranunculus plants. Later I add a random collection of bulbs with very little thought to colour or placement. It will be beautiful regarding less and I look forward to the heaving floral chaos that will emerge in spring, feeling grateful to see signs of new life in the garden already.

Next I turn to the weekly challenge of the filling the green bin and think that the soil is softening so I should dig up the hideous yellow dahlias while I remember where they are located and also the copper boy which I forgot to move last year. The yellows are in the bin, the copper boy in is the bucket waiting to be cleaned. In fact it didn’t take me long before the green bin was filled which always feels like a small victory for the week. Bulbs arrived this week so it has been a dash around the garden to collect pots to plant them in. I am still debating what to do re my dahlias that are still flowering in pots - hopefully an answer comes soon.

Around an old brick BBQ that was made a few years ago and never used as a BBQ are many pots that I clean and tidy, finding a number of foxglove self seeders. I then become enchanted by the idea of foxgloves and spring bulbs so dash inside to find some stored from last year to add to the newly weeded pots. I not sure if it will work - we will see. Come spring the brick BBQ will be one of my favourite things to look at as it becomes a mass of flowering daffodils, a hodge podge of tulips and others bulbs collected over the years. It soon hits mid morning and I stretch my aching back, search around for errant dogs and head inside for the much needed cup of tea and then possibly a dog walk. Hopefully I am still in time for my Hazelnut chocolate pastry.

With much love

Mel

The weather over the weekend suggested that I should do more than I did. I think we’ve had about four or five days in a row of clear days with temperatures in the late teens. While the mornings are cool and the air is chilled, the days are warm and sunny, it definitely feels warm for this time of year. I feel like I should be doing more in the garden but she is on a slow move into her winter hibernation. I am more than ok with that as I am cherishing the dahlias that are still flowering. I make plans for how to manage the garden over the coming months and think that perhaps my annual adding of compost and pea straw to the flower beds might be pushed back to spring. I think when the dahlias turn to mush I will then start a tidy up then.

In the meantime I hunt out other things to do. There is a rather large compost pile at the bottom of the garden which I am planning on replacing with a second garden shed so that bee stuff can be moved out of the garage and things that should be in the garage that are in the house can then be moved into the garage and I can turn the junk room to a bit of a library. No small plan. Combined with this compost move, I decided I would have another bash at the compost cake over the winter so I am collecting lawn clippings, compost, worm compost and garden waste to layer up and build my cake that hopefully will be something deliciously good for the garden in the coming months. It is small at the moment but will grow I am sure over the coming weeks. I might start a second once the first is made so that I can build it up over the summer. One building while the other rests. It seems like my kind of baking.

I’ve also spent time editing photos - I’ve currently time traveled back to October 2023 (photos included in this post are from then) where I deleted an impressive 1000 photos, mostly duplicates. It did however prompt me to then order a number of tulip bulbs after revisiting the photos of tulips. I am kinda in love with the candy colours of tulips and it is something that I am keen to repeat. I also brought some more daffodils- you can never have too many plus there is an order of ranunculus plants on the way - the anemones I brought a couple of weeks ago have doubled in size. I may have also added a few more plants to the garden…. everything is settling so well that I planted a few weeks ago it felt a shame not too take advantage of this golden Autumn. Sweet pea seedlings are starting to grow in their loo roll and I have a few overstuffed poppy seedling pots that I need to tend too. It all just keeps rolling along.

It all feels like planning for a season I am not currently sitting in. The work to create a light that will shine in future months. The direction forward to cast ones eye on those rainy days that I am sure are to come. It does, as mentioned, feel like I am not doing much but I forget that I am now working with a reasonable established garden and also that my knowledge over the years has grown too. Things because of this, perhaps, should be easier and I realise that maybe I am relaxing more as a gardener.

With much love

Mel

Hello

The past year or so I’ve been trying to figure out what direction to head with my creative outlets. Taking up photography a few years ago was so I could record and share our day dream of some land, some bees and a garden. Now that this is no longer on our radar I’ve been wondering what I do with my photography. What kind of pictures should I take? What is the purpose of what I do? How do I fit this into my daily life? Lots and lots of questions. It seems that after a fallow year where I just spun my wheels a bit with my photography (although I did discover I like to write odd little nature poems) I feel like I have had a growth spurt. It seems I am a newly flowering perennial rather than an evergreen on the creative front. I’ve worked out that I often need some down time, a winter of sorts to nourish oneself before blooming again.

Since the start of the year I’ve found a few communities that I treasure. Women who like me are juggling many things and craving a creative moment usually with a camera. Through monthly challenges I have discovered I like to make little zines (more to come on that). This past month I joined a group of just exceptionally talented people from all over the world and took part in a 30 day self portrait challenge. Each day we had a different theme and as the days progressed I was waking to read what my new challenge would be before daydreaming about what to create, which I did with various levels of success. Don’t get me wrong there were many frustrations due to limits of time or skill set but I think I have learnt enough about myself to understand that it is part of the process and if I just ride through the tantrums of frustration I often end up creating something I didn’t know I could.

The month starts gently- a hand here, a foot there, a blur, a shadow. As the days progress your confidence grows as you get use to seeing yourself in front of the camera. It becomes easier (not always the easiest thing) to fully stand in front of the camera and have a photo taken. It does bring up a lot of internal questions about self, perception of self and then of course how you feel society sees you. I am at an age where women aren’t often seen so if felt important to me to try, even if it was a baby step to make myself seen.

As the month draws to a close I have 30 photos of myself I didn’t have before. Most of them I like. There are photos I want to do again or explore more,by either taking an idea further or following an inspirational thread that I wish to pull. I share this experience not to show off photos of myself - I have only taken them for me but more to encourage a yes to anyone who has been thinking about doing something like this. Something that takes you out of your comfort zone, to do it. Yes you will have a wealth of emotional feelings about it but I feel it is worth it to learn and love more about who you are.

with much love

Mel

I look at the pear tree and notice less leaves. They seem to be fading away on a daily basis. Whilst there is still much greener in the garden I can see the slow seep in of Autumn. I feel behind on my autumn tidy up but really what can I do. Dahlias are still flowering so are cosmos and the chrysanthemums have not even started. My to do list is languishing just like the season.

I turn to other thoughts. Planting. The garden area which I cleared at Easter is now filled with plants, well enough for the moment. I will review again in late spring no doubt adding annuals such as cosmos and perhaps the odd dahlia in any gaps that are visible, then come next autumn I will add more plants if required. This rinse and repeat is how my garden evolves. I know that the selected plants that I have planted now with their colour palette of blues, pinks and white no doubt in a couple of years will say something else. I like this approach to gardening. It is a mix of moving with a gardeners growing knowledge and the garden space with a dash of weather and climate.

Most of what I plant is a replication of what is already there with a bit of magic added. A saliva of bold purple pink is placed in a gap that I have found in the already planted Nepeta. I have admired it in the botanical gardens (where I brought the plant). I like to add odd pops of colour that tend to flower in the off periods to the rest of what is flowering - just to give myself something interesting to look at plus it also provides continuous food for the bees. I also like to plant now so the plants can establish as the soil cools, it seems a more natural flow to me, rather than roots negotiating cold soil that would be warming in spring. The plants are well established that I have brought which I hope will help see them through the winter.

What is planted is designed to take care of it self. Masses of nepeta makes the bulk - in shades of deep purple, blues and white. I also added in some white biden which I love and hope that this plant will be a success in the garden - other attempts have failed. New to me this year is Bog sage - I love the soft blue and how it mingles into other plants - the bees love it too. A white Hyssopus is added and I might add some blue - these are always solid bee friendly performers. I sprinkle a couple of asters - one pink another white continuing my colour theme. Within the mass I add what I call pretties - the little pops that contrast against the background of bigger things that I have planted. You know the little details that catch your eye when you are walking passed. Here is what I added

• Phlomis samia - new to me

• Thalictrum Rochebruneanum - which is new to me and I brought earlier in the year. It flowered at a time when the rest of the garden was quiet which I appreciated.

• Lysimachi

• Boltonia - pink Nana

• Veronica’s in white and pink.

• Allium Siculum

• Pattys plum poppy

• Blue Geranium

Hopefully it will all melt together and I can’t wait to share photos of how it will look in spring/summer. In the meantime I have to finish laying the brick border around the flower beds before the bees return to their newly refurbished home.

Much love

Mel

The mornings are for tea and bread. They start early for a week off work, a hangover from the changing of the clocks. Time has seen us fall back into Autumn. Leaves swirl on dog walks, collecting and scattering in an array of colours that I find so beautiful as my dog pulls me a long. Mist has returned to the valley or rather I have the time to watch the mist spill over the lip of the valley. We are moving slowly and inch through the days which unfold in a whimsical manner - nothingness is my want most of the time. The diary of things to do is hidden in the depths of my bag. For the most part it feels good and I am sure by the time the week is up it will feel like how life should be.

The week before Easter, on Monday evening we moved the second hive out of the garden to another yard. It was dark and childhood memories of driving up the track to the house, country stars and the smell of mowed grass lingered. I hadn’t thought of the car lights illuminating a track in a long time and that feeling of being small, eyes filled with sleepy travel after visiting grandparents. I think the smell of cigarette smoke from earlier in the day poked something in my mind. The hive was moved as it was being robbed by other bees. Bees are hungry at the moment as food is scarce. It has been another odd summer and it always fills me with a bit of anxiety with regards to if this is the new normal and then I think how much of it is our creating. Moving the hive meant the space in the garden where it lived, along with it’s sister hive that was moved for the same reasons earlier, was empty of bee hives. Suddenly I was presented with a chance to garden in a built up but neglected part of the garden which has very much been left to riot of it’s own accord. I have two weeks before hives move back in to do a tidy up. It was unplanned but I found myself with a garden project for over the Easter break.

I had made a promise to not do much in the garden over the summer. I wanted to align myself with enjoying it. Minor weeding and dead heading were encouraged but that was it. Autumn would see me start to tidy up and make changes before we all rest for winter. The area where I was to tidy, was the first bed that I ‘designed’ when we first moved in. We added a fence of trellis to protect bees and I planted one wisteria, and two jasmine in not a large space. That sentence itself shows the innocence in my understanding of garden design. It didn’t take long for a large robust tangle of foliage to grow. It is a gorgeous tangle of a riot but a riot that never the less needed to be tackled and over two days and a number of hours, I chopped it back and discovered a spot of garden to play with it. We also ended up with the best smelling mulch as the jasmine was shredded.

Next step was to to tidy up and weed around the space. Hidden tiles placed in the grass to make the bee keeping easier were uncovered. Plants I hadn’t been able to trim back due to bee traffic were snipped. In all once it was tidy I felt pretty good. Plants have been ordered to fill newly discovered gaps before hives return (will share what I planted next week). The most important thing is that I felt so good for my work. My body ached, I have blisters on my fingers and I had reconnected to the garden. Autumn for me had begun. As I watch the mist descend into the valley my mind is dancing with ideas as I think of how to evolve the garden in preparation for another season because that is what gardeners do - dream and plan. If you are a gardener you know that feeling well.

with much love

Mel

Hi

It’s Monday again and the circle that is the week starts over again. I am in that sweet spot of time, that gap between things that need doing and things have been done. A moment to cherish. The dogs are scattered around the house in various forms of mid afternoon sleepiness. Big dog is upside down on the couch beside me. Pup on the floor like a rug. Eos is on a bed somewhere. It is quiet aside from the washing machine. A gentle warming sunlight is drifting through the window. I think I should be outside doing something in the garden but instead I just sit and think how we are entering the time of year when sunshine is treasured. The wind and rain over the weekend was reminder that winter is coming.

Over the weekend I was reminded of resilience. Walking up the path on Saturday morning I was scanning the garden for damage from the wind that blew the day before. Prior to the wind we had a few charming days of warmth and I was seduced by the comfort it all. Moments were spent watching bees amongst the flowers and holding tight to the knowledge that simple good things do still exist in a world that feels increasingly more fraught. So yeah I wasn’t expecting a wind. Friday saw the garden swirl like the sea and the dahlias who are normally nodding delicately were bashed about. I’ve spent some time tidying them up with the hopes they return to their former vigor. I am not ready to see them go just yet.

As I stroll I see out the corner of my eye, a sunflower that I had no memory of planting. Then I remember seedlings in the spring and some maybe falling out the window. I guess this one become submerged in the mass of weedy greens below. I was more then surprised and delighted to see that since their topple a lovely bloom was shinning. Across the path from the sunflower I noticed another delight, a small single bloom dahlia, another seedling that had stubbornly grown despite neglect. It was almost a mirror match to it’s sunflower sister across the way. After a few days of grime weather it was a much cherished sight and a reminder of how things can grow no matter what.

I can not know what, aside from the obvious nurturing, makes a seedling become a plant. You can with all the best intentions in the world manage a plant and it for no reason will simply not make it. My garden is very much made up of many such events and equally it is made up of things that have made it, often to my surprise. It makes me think how the resilient plants are and how this has influenced the design of my garden - it is very much a layered creation of survival. I plant with perhaps colour or shape in mind and every season it evolves into something else. A demonstration of beautiful resilience no matter what the weather. I like the idea of beautiful resilience no matter and might apply it more to daily life.

Have a wonderful Easter

with much love

Mel

Hello,

It is Saturday evening and we are outside having a BBQ, the second for the year. The smell and taste of bbq lingers mixed with the odd waft of honey from the hives. For a brief moment it feels like summer. After dinner I stay outside to read but my reading is interrupted as my eye darts. I end up watching bumble bees zoom - they really do look like mini helicopters. One circles past and lands on a dahlia seedling I grew from Susie Ripley’s ‘susie’ collection. It is a single bloom almost butter in colour, a keeper for sure. Another sentence read and I hear the familiar and distracting chirp of pīwakawaka. They are back in the garden. Earlier in the day we saw a cluster of 6 flying round. I couldn’t stop myself from saying hello and welcome to the garden. I realise I am becoming that kinda of person…. to be honest I don’t really mind.

Birds are such a feature of my garden. In my poetry class with Mary Walker (she has a nature poetry session starting soon) I commented on I how I feel like the garden has a heart beat and I love to stand it and feel that heart beat move with me. Sounds odd, but to me the garden is very much a living thing with birds being a vital part of that fluttering motion. They are busy at the moment, eating the elder flower berries. There are apples that been nibbled down to the core and I’ve watched little sparrows and finches delicately munch on seed heads and insects on what I view as the thinnest of branches. They must weigh nothing, like a minute.

The garden is starting to mature. My inexperience as a first time gardener is starting to give way to someone with a bit of knowledge, or at least appreciate of what to do and what not to, although I must admit there is still much to learn. When I look at the garden, the tangled tapestry of it all, I am trying to think how do I explain how to replicate the interweaving of plants and shrubs and I realise you don’t. I know what I see this summer and what will appear next and what it was last year are all different. The climate in each season will mean somethings will shine while others won’t. I learnt this summer that echinacea for me need to be treated like an annual as only one plant flowers this year, all the others have faded.

As I think about how to articulate how I got here. I realise the foundations that I created and continually work on are what have made my garden with a heartbeat.

Here are a few of my foundation points:

• Get to know your soil. For me there two things to think about here:

  • First, weed. Weeding the garden I reckon is the best way to get to know your soil. Lots of people do tests and if that is the way you roll, go for it. I failed 6th form science so I roll in a more tactile way. Weeding the garden is something you either love or hate and I must admit I do find it rather therapeutic. For me it is a great time for the mind to wander and let go of aching thoughts. I did some weeding over the weekend and learnt that the soil is super dry so that reminded me that while I am keen to fill in gaps that I have in the garden maybe I should sit tight before I start planting.

  • Second, understand that your garden can be made up of different types of soil and plant accordingly. I live on a slopping section which means the soil at the top around the house is dry while the soil that is at the bottom is in the shade of the house below us, is not. The soil by one fence is clay the opposite side less so. It is good to know this and to remember not to treat the soil all the same - this is important when it comes to planting. It does mean you can create different moods and stories in the garden which is lots of fun.

• Put some thought into your principles when it comes chemical treatments in the garden. I decided early on that my garden was going to support pollinators and that meant I needed to decide what chemical treatments I would use in the garden. Because I bee keep I see how vulnerable hives can be to changes around them whether that is natural or chemical. So I decided that I won’t use chemicals in the garden. For me this means no weed killers, no sprays for roses. I just let it be. This does mean I have issues. Bind wind drives me crazy. I manual remove it along with other weeds that get bossy when I can. My rule with plants and weeds if you get bossy you are out - I believe in a garden of kindness. I feed the roses but don’t spray so they do end up looking a bit rough by the end of the summer, but hey who doesn’t. I did have a bit period when thinks insect wise where a bit more in the favour of the insects but the last few years have seen things settle to a point that I don’t have issues. The birds and other beneficial insects manage things and I let nature do it’s thing which to me is the best kind of ecosystem you can create in your garden.

• Back to soil. I feed the soil. This I think is the best way to have healthy plants. Healthy plants means health insects that are beneficial to your garden and birds as well. Each Spring and Autumn I put a layer of compost (usually my own if I can) plus a layer of pea straw. The pea straw acts as a weed suppressor. Birds can move the pea straw around but I view it as a shared space and they usually do this when hunting out food, so for the most part I am ok with tidying up after them. I have a worm farm so when I plant and I usually put a bit of that in the with the plant as I plant them out. The soil isn’t fabulous but it is getting better.

Hope these thoughts are helpful.

Much love

Mel

Hello,

I’ve lost a dog in the garden. Given I have three, losing one is not a bad average. One has retreated inside to have the house to herself, taking full advantage of the fact the youngest and possibly the most annoying of the three dogs is tied up to a tree. He whimpers as I am not in touching distance. Sigh. Big dog, oldest dog, the OG dog is hidden somewhere in the garden which is one of his delights. He is deaf which means I call, swear, holler and shout to try to find him - he simply won’t emerge from his hiding spot until he is good and ready. When he does, he appears with a sheepish look on his face, “ you were looking for me” “Yes” I will sigh. Given he is 11 years old I let him away with these antics, knowing that one day I will surely miss this little game of ours.

I am sitting in the garden catching much needed sun after a rather long sad summer which saw more rain and grey sky than one would like. My break from newsletters was longer than planned. At first I was tired, and then it was Christmas and then I was tired again and then I started doing some creative classes and then it suddenly was mid March and Autumn was calling. It was an unintentional summer break and I wish I could be sharing stories of sun and fun and great memories but instead they are soft murmurings of something. What I am not sure.

Around me bees work. Bumbles and honey. Due to the nature of the summer I am so glad I have created the garden that I have. It is offering much needed food for our bees. I watch them move from one flower head to another, urgent in their work. Cosmos, scabiosa, single bloom roses and dahlia all provided nectar as too do the weeds that I have neglected over the summer. I watch bind weed and dandelions bobble with movement from dancing bees. As always the garden is a cheerful welcome mess. Earlier I watched from the window as birds start to nibble on seed heads that are beginning to form and the odd apple which thuds to the ground. I also spied Eos reaching up and stealing a pear from the tree. She is a gifted fruit tree thief. Noticing all these tells me Autumn is on the way, as does the talk of frost. Suddenly it feels like we are moving along to the next season when I don’t feel like this one has really begun. I just hope the dahlias hold for a bit longer. Some are just starting to flower and those that have been part of the garden scene for the past month or so, I cherish. Maybe it will be a slow autumn. Maybe.

I had a class mate ask me for gardening advise. How to plant and create what I have shared in photos in our class. It delights me no end that what I share inspire another - that someone sees what I see. I have a small part of me, a tiny voice at times, that believes in this messy tapestry kind of garden that I have. It is my resistance against the world that seems to become more of a dark place each day. I think how to do I explain this type of gardening. How do I put into words what has taken a number of years to create. A collision of ideas, mistakes and just luck in some cases. It gives me something to think about. Maybe it is just sharing the story of it all, how it has come to be a place of bees zooming, of birds nibbling on seedheads, of nodding dahlias.

While the garden work has been minimal I have been doing a few things as my mind starts to think about Autumn plans. Here’s what I have been up to:

• Deadheading anything that requires it - the cosmos, the dahlias, the roses and scabiosa to name a few. The main reason for this is to encourage more blooms for the bees. They are super hungry at the moment as they build their stores of winter or in the case of bumbles prepare their nest for the winter hibernation.

• This week I couldn’t resist planting a few things :

  Aquilegia - Chocolate Solider - a good spring bee friendly plant and this one I planted for the bees but also because it just looks weird and I am kinda looking forward to taking photos of it in the spring

Big Dog just turned up in case anyone was worried. He looks at me hinting it is time to go inside.

Aquilegia Rose Barlow - another bee friendly - I tried to grow from seed with minimal success so I admitted defeat and purchased some plants. Sometimes that is easier

Verbascum Hybrid - Southern Charm - I just love this and I seem to have plants that I always just add based the idea that you can never have too many. Planting in multiples is always a great thing to do for bees as they tend to forage one plant at a time - if there are multiples it saves flying around.

• Saponaria Officinalis - Flore Pleno - new to me plant that I thought I would give it a whirl simply cause she looks pretty.

Anyway it’s nice to be back sharing my garden with you.

Much love,

Mel

My hand reaches for the first book on the pile. Roses and sweet peas are scooped up and placed in a vase. The scent is wonderful and talks of the summer that I feel is inches away. A notebook has been ordered as my thoughts swirl and spin and I realise it is time. Time to break for the summer and enjoy words and flowers and sit and just be. Fill the tank for the year ahead.

Thank you all for reading my words, for commenting, for saying kind words.

I will see you in the new year.

with much love..

Mel

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I am sitting in the garden. Alone, which feels like an rather unexpected treat. Everyone else has gone inside and I am left with my notebook, pen and thoughts. It feels like the first time this season where I have just sat and enjoyed what is around me. I think how I need some time to connect to the garden space which dosen’t involve work and so I do. It’s evening. I watch as bumbles still hurry around, marveling at their work ethic, and the adorable cuteness of the new generation of bumbles no bigger than my little finger nail. I inhale scents. Honey from the hives (the honey bees have knocked off for the day), the mix of roses, jasmine and sweet peas along with that summer smell of heat and grass and moisture from watered plants. The roses are in their first flush, a delightful mix of candy colours against a backdrop of new green. Birds begin their evening chorus. I inhale it all in, a relaxed sigh follows.

It all seems to feel like an extension of a recent read “Do Reset” by Jillian Lavender, a mediation coach amongst other things. When I head indoors and finish the last few pages of her book it resonate and weirdly answer the question of what I have been feeling of late. As the year draws to a close it is most definitely the end of year tired I feel for sure but there is something else. A nervous sadness of sorts that seems to linger no matter what I do. I could feel it shift after sitting in the garden and Jillian’s words confirmed what I was feeling. I need to reset. She writes:

She goes on to explain the three phases of a mini reset:

1. Stop and let go - pull back from whatever it is that’s got you to the point of discomfort

2. Settle down - move away from over-excitation and towards a calmer place

3. Create space - open up room for what’s coming next.

I realise that I am exiting phase 1 and drifting unaware into phase 2. I had made a few tweaks to my ‘work work” and now that things are improving for the better I just need to settle for a bit before I moved on to what I can do with my energy now that I am experiencing less discomfort. I read how we find it hard to just settle into phase 2 and that we like to race to the new thing and I could see that this is why I was feeling a bit off. Perhaps it wasn’t just end of year tired I was feeling, maybe I am just rushing to move from one thing to another.

I reflected back to my time in the garden. How I sat and wrote (Essay Camp - a unexpected joy). I looked. I smelt. I listened. I invoked my senses, all things that you can do to reset your body and I thought how the garden is such a perfect place to do this. I think of the summer months ahead, of my growing summer reading pile and my chore list in the garden that is slowly shrinking. I then think of booking some time in the garden as all this unfolds to reset and to create some space for what is coming next.

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It is not yet 5am and I am awake. Sleep seems to have packed a bag and abandoned me despite me crawling into bed that night so exhausted that it felt like a welcome friend, a soothing comfort as my eyes started to close. Suddenly in the early hours of the morning every unprocessed thought was demanding my attention and no matter how much self soothing I did, I couldn’t find peace. I pretend for so long and then admit defeat. I was at that point where you are close enough to when you would normally wake that trying to get back to sleep seems pointless. I get up and try and think of how to use my time, so here I am tap tapping away, reflecting on the weekend.

The weekend seemed to be one of words that caught my ear and I hope hold memories for later days. Saturday I meet a friend in the botanical gardens with our cameras, something which I have not done in a long time. It felt good to play, to talk and to feel the warmth of late spring sun on my skin. ‘How did we not see this last year” my friend calls out and I wonder how this is so. Is it timing or plants growing at different rates due to seasonal variations or is it visiting on a different day. Perhaps it is us that is different a year on, we are no doubt molded and shaped slightly different to when we stood here last year, even if we aren’t aware of it. For what ever reason we saw either with the same eyes different things or different eyes the same things.

“Is that rose named peace?”, she asked “yes” I replied knowing that when I picked and put it in a vase now sitting on the dinning table that she most would likely make such an inquiry. She immediately inhaled it’s wonderful fragrance as I did when I picked it. I thought how magical flowers can be that they evoke a quiet simple joy. That a name and a scent could take us both to different places, different memories in this simple act of acknowledging a flower. Her thoughts of what that rose meant to her are different to mine yet somehow we are connected by her inquiry of the name.

“Oh hello you”, I said to myself as I gardened. Woken early by a dog whose internal alarm clock is 6am no matter what the day of the week it is, I found myself in the garden by 8 tackling the number of plants purchased and seedlings who had survived my rather hardcore hardening process. I decided that everything was getting planted today and I was determined to do so. I do think that one of my favourite things about gardening is that even if you are weeding or planting, you see different things that you may miss as you walk past during your day. I love spying the newly flowered, the little lady bug that saw me rush to get my camera or seeing small stories as plants grow and tangle together. My garden is a tapestry and I am so happy that it is filling in.

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It’s 4pm, Monday afternoon. “Work work” is a distant memory and I am sitting on the couch with limbs in the sun. Dogs are scattered around the house, cooling off after some time outside in the garden. Whilst outside I spent time sorting my seedlings, taking stock of what is working and what is not. The neglected tomato seedlings were put into bigger pots and I set up something I love to have on hand each summer, a pot of basil seedlings. There is nothing better than adding a handful of basil to a salad or to a fresh cherry tomato. I worked out who was still going on the cosmos and scabiosa front. I believe the lack of sun in the last two weeks and me being a bit heavy handed with the watering meant I am going to start again. I love that about gardening, you usually always get a do over. I also have sitting by me a label of the rose that I hope I can find. I planted about 5 new roses in the garden this year and for some reason Pup pup took a dislike to one, Munstead Wood and dug at it until the rose said enough and promptly stopped growing. Elsewhere in the garden, paths are becoming hidden as raspberries are pollinated. It is all buzz and grow.

Before I headed indoors after sorting out my seedlings, I clipped a few twigs of what I image are the last of the white lilac and the first of the scented roses that are starting to flower. I then spent 10 minutes trying to find Senior Airedale. To find a senior and rather deaf Airedale one must repeatedly whistling and calling to him. I thought I had found his trail of mischief but he ended up appearing in a completely different part of the garden with a stupid grin on his face, a smattering of foliage in his fur. He does delighted in his game of hide and seek. He turns 11 this month and as much as I can do with out the hunting round the garden just seeing the delight on his face I know is a memory in the making. For the most part (digging up roses aside) I do love being in the garden with the dogs.

The garden is a joy to be in at the moment, especially after the weeks of unattractive weather that we have had. It is filling in and I have to say as it moves on from the fresh green of early spring I find in myself just generally feeling more settled. It’s like we are both sighing with relief at the place we find ourselves. I finished up my big spring weed and now am delightfully filling in gaps with new plants. I have a couple of online orders coming this week and I definitely want to get in as much as I can into the garden before the end of the month. The sweet peas that I started off as seedlings in Autumn are starting to flower and are much more successful compared to the ones that I started in spring. Dahlias are starting to sprout and I am relieved to see them emerging from the soil as we had a few more frosts this year compared to last so I was a bit worried that I would lose some. I have a few new tubers to add to the collection, including one called ‘Sweet Sanne’ a name shared by a much loved cousin. You can never have too many dahlias right?

The spring bulbs are down to one last tulip which when gone I will let the bulbs die off a bit before replacing with the many zinnias I have sprouting inside. I am looking forward to having a mass of them flowering away. It feels early but the garden is really starting to move with pollinators. First generation bumbles have been seen and the honey bees have been feasting on the borage (white and blue) that is a welcome self seeder in the garden along with the honey wort. I do love seeing a sea of blue in the garden softly moving due to the presence of bees. Poppies are proving popular and my pots are dense with plants. I love seeing what colour poppy is emerging each day. Whilst I am wistful in my description of the garden, it is a delicate balance of management and I still have work to do. Bind weed is appearing and I have to sort out the patio area and the list goes on but for the moment as I sit with limbs in the sun I am just drinking in the delight of it all, and appreciating the work that I have done so far this season. I hope wherever you are you take a moment to do the same.

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We all seem bored. It is raining like it would rain on a winters day. Ice speaks in the air and I am sure it is snowing somewhere (it was). There is no sun. Dogs are scattered about the place. The older two, well versed in such days, are sleeping. They seem to have sensed that the early morning walk before the weather set in, was all the activity the day was going to allow. Now they seek warmth and comfort and yes I am one of those people who nestles their dogs in old blankets. Atlee’s eyes, followed by a deep sinking moan, tell me that his old bones appreciate my fancies. Pup doesn’t follow suit and I am sure if he could talk he would utter “I’m bored”, in his best whining voice. Instead he amuses himself, darting from room to room, finding bits of paper that I am sure I have picked up to chew. We all soon tire of him and each other and seek comfort in our own worlds, sleeping, watching telly, reading words. It feels like a Sunday where such weather is allowed, however it is a Monday and a day off work. I feel like we deserve a refund on this day.

As the day creeps along, I revisit an old notebook refreshing my mind with collected quotes from past reads along with jottings of notes. They almost take the shape of a dream. I skim through and words that capture my eye are transcribed to other note books. These are ideas to shape and refine. Perhaps there is a dream there after all. It is enough for the moment. These transcribed words are a suggested play for future days. I close my notebook and whilst I don’t have a tangible creation I can feel the murmurs of something, what I am not sure but I feel a small twinge of excitement at the possibility of it. Maybe that is what boredom is for, the gentle space of nothingness which encourages the mind to look in corners busy days prevents.

I make a tea, it is a day for tea and whilst I hunt out the milk, I glance over the fridge door. It is mess of magnets collected from travels (refined, the bulk are in a box somewhere. Magnet collecting was an obsession for a while), photos of family and the odd postcard. Cherished emphemera, memory moments that I glance at daily. It holds those not immediately near close. I am reminded of conversations with my sister in law and how the fridge is not just the heart of the house for the food it stores but also like ours, the collective memory. My eye returns to the postcard and I think how I have others as bookmarks, holding pages in books. Stories within stories. It reminds me to check out a local printer. I want to make my own to share, to send, to be stuck on someone’s fridge elsewhere or to be hidden in a book. I like the idea of making small art pieces to hold in your hands.

While I am still working on the postcards, I do have a few I printed, just to see what they are like. They are a starting point to something, much like the words revisited from my notebook, an idea not yet fully formed but one I will share when it is ready. In the meantime I have a pile of daffodil cards, ready to send. I thought perhaps to send them out into the world would be nice. A spark of joy much like the image of spring. A little bit of joy in the mail that these days we don’t get a lot of. I post a message on socials “does anyone want some mail?” people respond and cards are sent to various corners of the world. I reconnect with people who in the past we would have chattered and now we just heart a photo or two. I have a few left and if you wish to have a little joy sent your way in the form of a postcard of daffodils then let me, respond to this message “yes please” and I will see what I can do.

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As I look out the window part of me wonders and worries a little. I am thinking about how the garden might look like in 24 hours. Strong winds are predicted and while we are not sitting in the brunt of it (thoughts to peeps in those areas) one still feels nervous. Rain is falling and a wind is stirring. There is the talk of 24 degrees and 50 km winds. It feels like a confusing mess, an extreme version of 4 seasons in one day. It adds a unique undercurrent of nervousness to the day.

The garden as I look out my rain splattered window is cracking along regardless. The lush green of spring is on full display and I admire pops of colour that are emerging as flowers bloom. Each season there is always something different that captures my heart and this year it seems to be the colour orange. I know weird right? I think it is about contrast. The contrast of the green background of the garden against the lushness of orange. It sings in a way that I think would only work in spring. I find it especially heartening on a grey day like today and as I look out the window my eye is automatically drawn to the vibrant ranunculus that are currently flowering. For some reason I have been incredibly precious about my ranunculus Potting them up in pots and then saving the corns (when I remember) to re plant in the year to come. I realised this year I need to let go of this, as I noticed that my potted ranunculus are nowhere near as strong as those that remained in the garden. So one of jobs this weekend, if weather permits, is to plant them all out into various garden beds, I just need to decide which ones.

From the window I can also see some seedlings, nervously shivering, no doubt just as confused as I am about the weather as it swings from full sun to rain in the space of 24 hours. I suspect I am being optimistic about the survival of some. I started off well with my seedlings to the point that I left confident. Measured amounts were potted up and watched and then I got carried away with too many trays and seeds and the seedlings I started off last are suffering. The burst of sunflowers that emerged a week or two are go are shadows of their former selves and the abundance of cosmos seedlings too have faded away. I was relieved when I spotted someone else on socials bemoaning the decline of their beloved cosmos. I’ve decided it is time for a new approach and so more seeds will be ordered and I think I will direct so in the garden. I am curious to see how successful this will be and I’ve made notes to self for next year to pace myself when it comes to growing my seedlings.

Added to the scene at bottom of the garden I can see waving away in the wind the mop top form of white lilac. I’ve been delighting in the return of scent to the garden just as much as I have been the colour green and of course the sound of an errant bumble bee. Lilac flowers for such a short season and I gleefully snips branches of it to bring inside. I added a delicate pink variety to the garden last year and look forward to seeing her bloom once the white has finished. The jasmine too is rioting along, fighting against enforced containment as I try to keep it in one space, its creepers strongly disagree with my plans. On the few nights that hint of summer and windows are open I love the casual drift of it’s scent in the through the window. I was also very pleased to see my first rose flowering Freesia, she looks and smells fabulous. I am especially pleased to see her leaves are lush and health looking telling me that my worm farm compost mix has worked a charm. That is all the encouragement I need to keep up the adding of compost and pea straw in the no dig method to the garden.

The sky seems to be a determined grey and the rain is heavy drops that provide no comfort and only suggest being chilled to the bone. There is not hint of the predict warmth, maybe it is to come with the wind. Either way I shall watch the storm unfold from the comfort of my home and hope that it passes quickly and that people and creatures are kept safe.

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It’s mid week, the weather and light are enough that I think I might be able to head out later after dinner and take some photos in the garden. This is one of my favourite things to do. I find it is a perfect way to end the day, taking a minute to enjoy some quiet reflection, capturing beauty before the night folds in. “I’ve checked the bees and we have a nuc hive to move” I am informed and I can see the mirage of my moment in the garden fade as I learn of nuc that needs to head up the road and my help is required. The afternoon moves on, dinner is had, dogs are walked and we are suited up. Before I know it, the nuc is in the boot of the car and we are traveling along to the location that will be the new home of our little hive. Upon arrival there is the usual discussion of fences and lifting and differences in arm lengths and what one can and can not do (6ft 4 vrs 5ft 4) Before I am ready to do what I need to do I see the nuc is over the fence and partly nestled in it’s new location when I hear “there’s a swarm”. Wait, what? Actually there are two swarms. By now I am full cartoon double take, untangling myself from fence and tree and trying to figure out what is going on.

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This is when I see swarm number one. A small huddle of bees, slightly bruised and definitely not moving. It lies on the side of the gravel track merging into the grass edge. I am not sure what happened I suspect the cold may have got to them but I must admit it is kinda a heart breaking thing to see. I guess a death of anything in any form is. I frown beneath my veil and then my eye catches movement and I can see huddled together on a sprouting sapling of some sort a small cluster of bees, just enough to warrant being called a swarm. It is moving and looks slightly chilled. We kinda look at each other wondering what to do next as we don’t have anything to scoop the swarm up. I remember the newly purchased tool box we brought to put any food purchased that a waiting airedale might find desirable whilst in the car alone so I retrieve it from the car and we brake off the branch where the swarm is hanging and rest it in the box, hoping the queen is in. Placing the open box on an angle we watch as the bees already scooped up stay and others start marching in the general direction of where the queen must be. This all seems to be going to plan. It is only just as we think we are done that we notice the queen on a bee suit. She is promptly placed in the box, the swarm is taken home to be put into proper bee kit and now as I write whilst it is raining, it is settled in the garden until we know the hive is a bit stronger.

The next day I start work early so I can finish early so I can garden as it is going to be a warm afternoon. I have plans to tidy up a flower bed, the herb bed actually, which is a looking ratty and I most likely won’t touch until this time next year when it has been through a full cycle of the seasons and is looking ratty again. Work is done and I am back inside, making a tea when I notice out the corner of my eye what seems to be a lot of bee activity. A stream of many not into or out of a hive but instead mid way up the very tall rata tree which is at the bottom of the section. I sigh and inwardly pray my eyes are playing tricks on me but no, upon closer inspection, well from a distance given where they are located, I confirm that indeed there is a swarm. Text messages fly and then I wait until the taller of us is home.

Upon his arrival a plan is formed involving a ladder, a box and climbing into the part of the garden which is well down on the list of places that need tidying up, largely because it is a such a big task to undertake. We attempt to catch the swarm, well, what will end up being three attempts - up the ladder, shake the bees into the box, pass box down, clamber through overgrown garden, dump bees (gently) into bee box. We finally got the queen in the cardboard box and then nestled her into her new home upon which point the bees stopped streaming out and back to the spot on the rata tree where they were. While we waited for bees to settle into their new home I grabbed the camera to take some photos, ironically at the time I was planning to the night before, in the quiet of the unfolding evening. The dinner wasn’t made, the dogs weren’t walked and it wasn’t as planned but it was still a moment to capture beauty. I guess you have got to take these moments when you can.

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It’s early Saturday morning and I am checking my phone. The message reads “….I am determined to go…”. I check the weather forecast and gloomy rain clouds are still present. I had secretly hoped it would have shifted to a glowing sun by now but no, it’s still gonna rain. We agree to meet regardless and I surrender to the idea that it will be what it will be. The gardens, Maple glen gardens, just outside of Wyndham, are about an hours drive from where we are staying in the Catlins. We have taken a few days off work and have brought big dog, the OG Atlas with us whilst the other two pups burn off some steam at the kennels. As we drive to the gardens the clouds lifts and thickens with no set pattern. It rains then falls into a mist which then disappears only to return to rain & mist minutes later. We arrive and met and the grey clouds hold. I divert everyone from the nursery, “Let’s visit the garden first just in case it rains”. So we head off to wander the 100 acres garden (yes you read me right) and the rain did as I asked and held off and it was magical.

I mentioned in my Instgram post when I did a quick “I really must share some of these photos with someone” that this garden was the place of spring and it was. Not spring referencing a splash of blossom or the odd bulb here or there but mass plantings that involved hillsides of daffodils and small forests of bluebells seeking shelter under lofty trees. There was an avenue of blossoms which was simply magical to stand under and listen to the contended drone of bumblebees while tuis sang. A number of ponds created a journey round the garden. Walking around it felt like minutes had passed when really you had lost an hour or two. I was amazed at how the vistas worked. The garden design meant that one step one way created a vista that changed into something else after a few paces on. We wandered losing each other and then finding each other, only to head off into different directions, circling back to each other minutes later. Our tour guide was a piwakawaka that danced around us we moved through the garden. The magnolias were just starting to flower along with some beautiful rhodies that were the perfect shades. I could see that in later season that Hydrangeas would be the stars of the garden.

I marveled at how a simple palette of a few plants as a background would shift in nature by adding in a different plant. For example masses of daffodils and white hellebores that had the accent of bluebells which as you walked around the garden moved to deep purple trilliums. I was super inspired by woodland type plants and I have a spot in the bottom of the garden where I purchased a number of treasures (anemones, bleeding hearts) from their nursery (they are online). I found the magical layering of shrubs inspiring and loved how pruning gives shape and direct for the eye to follow. It was all so peaceful and such a lovely space to be in. Enough from me- I shall let the photos do the talking.

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