I’m flicking through the pages of my note book with hands that have scratches from four days of gardening. I only discovered half of them when I had my second bath in two days. The first was mid afternoon on Saturday when all my aching body was doing was protesting. It soon calmed down after a soak in a gardeners best friend some Epsom salts. Four days of gardening were as blissful as they sound. I clocked in at 8am and worked non stop until noon delighting in having a day stretch out unconfined by what I must do. I mean I did have a chore list of things to do in the garden but I wasn’t restricted by time. I could start and finish my gardening work as and when I wanted to. It felt like the ultimate in luxury - to garden and forget about time.
So what did I do. The plants that I had collected were finally planted. The soil feels warm to touch so that was enough for me. Poppies that I grew from seed in the Autumn along with my many drumstick alluimns have now found there homes in various flower beds. I purchased a couple of terracotta pots that I nestled into beds where the soil is dry and unforgiving and filled them will more poppies - poppies that I am delighted to see have started to flower. Five bales of pea straw were spread across the garden (and I need more). Ranunculus were planted in the much moved trough planter. Weed mat that I failed to put down on a newly created path last year was finally placed and it also marked out a new seating space. I did this to give us a clear visual of the space so we can see how much room we have to create it. Little white anemones were nestled into beds smothered in self seeded Italian parsley that were used in garlic bread we ate for dinner later that night. The work was enriching and hot and it seemed to feel like a final step out of winter into spring.
The notebook I am flicking through contains words and images I have collected over the year - it’s a memento of my journey through books I read. I am not sure if I will ever do anything with this collection but I find some reassurance in having all these words and images recorded and remembered. I love that the spine is straining as the pages are filled. I am flustering through pages and trying to understand my hand writing when I find the words I am looking for, from Celia Paul’s memoir ‘Self Portrait”:
“I only ever work from people and places that I know well. This inside knowledge gives me freedom to take liberties with the forms and structures of the face and figures, the colours, the waves, the houses.”
I hunted it out because after my gardening hours, I found it so easy to pick up the camera and take photos. Celia’s words of creating from things that she knows well resonates. This is how I feel - I can only create art from the garden after spending time it. I need to know it well in all it’s seasons. As I worked I noticed the newly emerging anemone, shrieked a greeting of delight to the freshly flowered poppy, admired the pear blossom that is starting to show. It was like reconnecting to some part of me that had been hibernating over the winter. I didn’t need to pep talk myself to take some photos as I had been of late I just did because I wanted too. I played.
As the days of spring unfold and we spring forward with the clocks this weekend I think I shall look back on this weekend of four days with an immense fondness. Not just because the weather was largely good and I ticked off pretty much all that I was on my to do list but because I got to spend time in one of my favourite places that I know well and cherish the freedom it gave me to create with joy.