come for a wander

Our garden is singing it's quiet song just now. There is plenty of sound: the ripple of water into the pond below the mossy rockery; wind chimes in the bird tree; the little flutters, tweets and twitters of multiple birds; crows and pigeons marching, or waddling, about the lawn; jays screeching down in the Dell; squirrels racing about raiding the peanuts and a pair of seagulls with whom I am at war!  

The quiet in this garden is about the feeling of time having passed, the procession of harmonious colours, experiment over many years and some benign neglect. There are always weeds somewhere, but at this time of year, much to enjoy. It is the longest I have ever had a garden in my care, we have been here now over 14 years and I am just beginning to understand how a growing space evolves. With time you notice the way the soil works, how the light falls and what comes up when. Just now all is full of spring lightness, the colours are quiet, the plants partly from the previous owner and partly from my planting. I pop things in and care for them to a greater or lesser extent, and some thrive and some don't. The primroses are certainly thriving this year, washing the space with their delicate yellow. The camellias are out and the pulmonaria with their glowing blues, pinks and purples are just at their best.

Look one way and you'll find the shed with a camellia glowing at the end and some of the many clusters of primroses in the foreground

turn round and the pointy covered pond is there, pots full of expectation and a chair and table to sit and watch the fish as the weather warms and the chimes send out their bell like notes.

There is often a garden tool propped up somewhere, remnant of a forgotten task

The oriental lady still welcomes you along to path to the wind chimes, pulmonaria at her feet and the flowering currant nodding above.

Half way down the path, the tripod lantern holder my son in law made me some years past holds a glass lamp we brought home from Turkey many moons ago.

The rockery by the pond is always a battle to keep clear of weeds, but the moss is doing nicely these days

The little waterboy stands guard by the small steps

where some lovely daffodils, which came with the garden, give us joy each year

And in the courtyard, the promise of blossom just swelling from the buds of the miniature plum.

We are so lucky to have this peaceful spot to soothe our souls.

The tale of the Handy Heffalumps (and a little bit of Norway)

I have some Handy Heffalumps given to me in the dim distant past by a friend. We knew each other for many years as friends and work colleagues; at one stage she was also my very kind boss but, as often happens, post retirement we have lost touch. Life sometimes intervenes. The Heffalumps usually live in my handbag, and are taken out to carry bits of shopping all over my home town. At every use I send a "thank you Rhona" to her, wherever she is, and hope life is being kind to her. They are one of those miraculous breed of fold out shopping bags which, by some Zen principle of origami, can be persuaded to go neatly back into their inbuilt carry pouch, if you are especially patient! 

 

They haven't travelled abroad before though, until now, when they went to explore Norway, in an airplane across the sea

Along the way the Heffalumps saw many wonders, tucked away in my bag

Edvard Grieg's house nestled in the woods above the water

His little composing hut, sheltered down on the shoreline

The eerily wonderful Fantoft Stave Church, again, tucked away in the woods

The delights of Bergen looking Christmassy

It was here we boarded our cruise ship to go hopping up the coast. On the way we saw Art Nouveau Alesund

But, on one fateful shore trip, the Heffalumps were dropped, position unknown, complete with pair of cleats they were carrying!

The owner's bag went on past more wonderful sights in Trondheim: the glorious cathedral (where cleats might have been very useful in all that ice)

Many strange bits of delightful street art or memorial 

until the owner suddenly stopped, here, realising the Handy Heffalumps were gone!  

Powerhouse Brattørkaia – Snøhetta

There was some considerable sadness for such a mundane thing, but they had been my companion, memento of my friend, for many years.

The shining gods of the eco powerhouse must have been smiling on me though, along with some kind fellow cruiser, who retrieved that nylon bag, bringing it back to the ship. The following day I and my Heffalumps (and cleats) were happily reunited in the lost property section of our Hurtigruten ship. I will never know who rescued them, and they will never know the impact of their kindness. So thank you, whoever you were, for returning a nylon shopper (plus all essential pair of cleats) to MS Polarlys in early December. Your kindness enabled the Heffalumps to see more delights, including

A snow hotel with huskies

wonderfully Jule festive looking ports

The crossing the circle ceremony onboard; occasion of much jolliness and laughter at others' discomfort. Feel free to speculate as to the contents of the icy silver bucket! A ladle was involved.

The rather magical Arctic Cathedral in Tromso

Glorious scenery

Days where sunrise and sunset are all the daylight you get, while the sun hides below the horizon. 

More Christmas cheer

And many more marvels besides. The Heffalumps may have been deployed on several occasions to carry wool, or fabrics, or other lovely things back to the ship. 

And the question you always get asked, "Did you see them?"

I am thrilled beyond measure to say I did.

I hope you have all had a very merry Christmas, Solstice, Yule or whatever other way you celebrate the turning of the year.

Oh my darling columbine

These flowers greeted a grieving child, the spring after she lost her Daddy, her home, most of her Mummy: the year she turned eight, the year life turned upside down. They have a special place in my heart

Petersfield was a long way away and in Hastings, in Ganna's house, life was utterly changed. Mummy was out at work all the time, but behind Ganna’s house, in the garden, that secret, quiet space, there were columbine and grape hyacinths, and space to heal.We have a new variety, self seeded, in our front garden. Such delicate tones

They give me great joy