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

in the pink

The garden is rewarding us hugely at the moment, despite the incredibly dry season. Spring always seems to be very much about blue and yellow. Early summer in our garden brings a lot of pink in all its forms.

The roses are being remarkable

The paeony is just about holding its own

Then there are actual "pinks" starting to fade a little with lack of water

In geographical mood there is the deep magenta of knautia macedonica

and the wonderful gladiolus byzantinus by the pond, being admired by the little water boy - I love the way it sings with the blue of the geranium

More magenta from the lychnis, which always threatens to take over, but which was, apparently, my father's favourite plant so I allow it free reign in memory of him

and the self seeded opium poppy with its sculptural seedheads, much loved by the bees 

There are, of course, other colours out there, but I thought you'd enjoy a bit of pink

The weather has been incredibly dry, no rain for about a month, though there might be some in the next couple of days. Because we have the pond and several other drinking stations dotted about, we have had continuous activity from our local birds including this delicate little goldcrest taking an early morning bath

and the goldfinch who pours out his glorious rippling song from the top of the spruce

I was lucky enough to catch s flash of blue as the jay took off for the peanut feeder - a quicker shutter speed would have helped!

and there has been a lot of scampering under the garden seats by these two squirrels - now I wonder what that's all about!

I hope you have enjoyed a little snippet of garden colour from this hot and dry corner of the Sussex coast

spring begins

In amongst the leaves of last year, and the rather soggy soil from recent regular rains, there are signs of pleasure to come in the garden.

I am always surprised and delighted by these little cyclamen, which seem to realise they should stay small beneath one of my slow trees. 

These snowdrops are in quite deep shade, but still are beginning to show their delicate white petals.

while these, nearby but getting more light, have gradually developed into a lovely clump over the past ten years; slow and steady

I love the soft furry leaves and clear colours of pulmonaria, which come in so many shades of blue and pink

Hellebores take time to clump up, but I have high hopes for these in the coming years, especially if they also set seed and bring us more variations on the hellebore theme

The greater periwinkle is only a recent addition, but the flowers are so long lasting and the variegated leaves bring a bit of brightness beneath a camellia

a shy crocus beside some steps

and in the front garden the bright eyes of winter jasmine

the first primroses netting the sunlight

and another clump of snowdrops by the weeping birch, which came from Cecil's garden, so always remind me of her

How is your garden growing?

Open delight

We had such an enjoyable day yesterday welcoming folk to our garden for the first time. I kept a rough five bar gate record of the day and counted 254 folk who came and chatted and wandered about. It was such a pleasure to see them all.

Here's how it looked at the end of the day as the pond fell quiet

the cat chaps reclaimed their space

Phil's Corner captured the evening sunlight

and Woll watched on from his perch under the yew tree

as the flowers caught the light

and this morning the rain washed it all and made it shine

speckling the leaves of a little rose which started its life in Cecil's garden in Kidmore End, planted out from its pot this year, adding to the "garden as memory" element which I love in this space

a day of contrasts

Yesterday was a day of wonderful contrasts. In the morning, the sun was shining in amongst the clouds and spring breezes and during a quick wander in the garden I saw the first bumble bee of this year. He was bumbling busily, and buzzily  about the early blooms, particularly taken by a hellebore we planted last year. I had hoped to catch him as he rummaged about it but he flitted off before I could take my picture. I love the way these rather shy, delicately coloured flowers are complemented by the steely silver, prickly leaves.

Two more hellebores are currently in pots on the patio, this one with it's bashful yet incredibly vivid rich pinky purple flower heads is another bought one; the one below comes as a seedling collected either from my dear one's daughter's garden, or from Cecil's cottage;

we have about 15 seedlings in various stages of growth, destined to be dotted through the garden in friendly groups to enjoy themselves and mix their genes with those we have bought. As ever, I love the idea that plants in our garden will speak to use both of themselves and of the people with whom they are associated - the garden as memory.



The crocuses were shining like golden stars in the grass, nestled at the feet of these daffodil stems, which have buds but not quite flowers as yet

Then there were the snowdrops. This one, with a tiny cyclamen just visible in the background, lives in a bed that I'm hoping to plant with a woodland feel. It's near the house, and I'm also planting primulas in a variety of colours, again in the hope they will self seed and interbreed, both with each other, and with the native primroses that are dotted about. I also have some snowdrops taken from Cecil's front garden, which I thought I'd lost, but which have overwintered in their pot, carefully husbanded down in the kitchen garden and are now nodding their heads on the patio along with the hellebores. They will be planted beneath a maple that Mum bought for me years and years ago, which has lived in a pot until now. I wanted to keep it with me through all of my house moves until I found the place where I knew I was going to stop. Last year it was given it's home in the soil.


So, a peaceful interlude in my morning's work.

Then, in the evening, we went to an event at the De La Warr Pavilion. We were given membership of this for Christmas and the tickets were offered free to members. It was a live performance of ISAM by Amon Tobin. I'd not heard of him before; it was not the sort of thing we'd have risked paying for as it was very much outside the good man's musical taste, though I had an idea what to expect, and expected it to be enjoyable. My dear daughter, rather indulgently, offered me ear plugs because - "it's going to be loud Mum" .... "yes dear"

It was, without a doubt, one of the most amazing gigs I've ever been to. A completely mesmerizing combination of sound, light and image, I cannot begin to describe it, but was on the edge of my seat almost the entire time. All I can suggest, is that you pop over to his website, or check out some of the clips on YouTube to get a brief taste of what it was all about. The music was the sort of sound that lodges deep in your chest, vibrates through your body and sends a shiver right through you from head to toes, and the images, projected onto a structure of white cubes, one of which housed him, took us through galaxies, past spaceships, firestorms, rippling water and tumbling blocks of colour and light. It was astonishing!