And Again....

The more I look at Gill's statue of John the Baptist the more it makes me think of Michael Jackson. There's a definite resemblance. Beautiful young man, great cheek bones, striking a pose that includes a pointed finger; next thing you know it'll be moonwalking off its plinth.

On The Verge Of Spring

Over the winter the lawns and flowerbeds have spread over the paths- and I've been out this morning with a spade and hard-bristle yard brush, pushing them back. How many seasons of neglect would it take for this house to be overcome and completely undone by Nature? Not many.

This is a big garden. And it's about to go whoosh. It will be wonderful of course- but how many man/woman hours will have to be expended to keep it within bounds?

The people next door have a full-time gardener. He and his wife live in the converted stables. We see him pottering around on his mini-tractor. Our garden isn't as big- but it's big enough- and if we had a full-time gardener I don't suppose he'd spent too much of his time sitting idly in the potting shed.

We abandoned the kitchen garden at an early stage of our residency. It was just too much, too much. Matthew went through it with strimmer last Autumn and laid everything low. I hadn't meant him to take out the currant bushes and raspberry canes but perhaps it was for the best. Now it's a blank canvas for the weeds to fill- and they're not being slow in getting started....