A blue, mountains day.
An early winter's day. I arrived at the garden to be greeted by David and Queenie. She is the black Scottish shadow who is guardian of this garden.
Soil has been turned. Weeding is being done. Green things are growing.
As always I found it bizarre to see a tree in bloom in this quiet season. An ornamental quince in new blossom. The few blossoms are vivid pink and contrast with the deep green of the lawns.
In the distance I could hear the rumble of the coal train, headed west empty or east full. It's noise is a regular comfort in our lives up here.
There are many terracotta pots. They could lend the garden a European feel but instead the garden has an Oriental form. Not necessarily in terms of its planting but in the delicious order, the twisted and clipped trees, the careful placement of plants.
The faded hydrangeas retain a little of their summer colour. They remind me of what was and what will be again in the seasons of this garden.
