Oh, well, I’m sure you’re allowed to say happy birthday to yourself – well, happy blogiversary, that is. One year already – amazing.
From snow to – hmm. Mud.
In just one year, blogging has taught and brought me a lot, and I’m so grateful. Primarily, it has made me really look at my garden, and at the plants in it.
I’ve made friends and been in touch with gardeners all over the world, which constantly amazes me; I’ve had tons of really sound advice from tips on dealing with early blight on me spuds before I have to trash the lot to suggestions for plants to go in my new bed. A bed I probably wouldn’t have created without my new perspective…
Because I’ve rediscovered my passion for plants which had been somewhat overwhelmed by growing things to eat.
I’ve also rediscovered my passion for photographing my garden, and that’s why this post is largely photographic – a celebration of the past year in my garden.
Hm – primarily a celebration of last spring.
It’s raining again, I’ve not been well for ages and I need cheering up. And it won’t be long (maybe next week, the rate some things are coming along in this unseasonal mildness) before some of the real joys of the garden appear.
Maybe I’ve got a case of SAD? It wouldn’t be surprising; I’d love some nice, crisp, sunny winter days; get those walking boots on and get out into the hills without needing waders. Full body waders. Wellies will do for the garden.
But spring flowers are always cheerful, and I defy anyone to be glum in the face of spring gorgeousness, like the fritillaries which come up in the meadow.
The season may be haywire, but at least there’s no sign of these quite yet. I think: I haven’t actually looked in the spot where the earliest ones usually appear.
Nor are the tulips showing, but they won’t be long.
And then very soon I’ll be able to take a cup of tea and a book and sit on the bench, looking down the hill towards the dunes and the sea, and relax and enjoy the sun.
Oh hang on, no I won’t be able to. I’ve planted a damson (well, an eirin bach, the local wild plum) near here which will block the view a bit, and the wood of the seat has rotted away in all this wet. Reality intrudes – but I can lay my hands on another chunk of wood, and who knows if the eirin bach will survive? And if it does, I’ll trade part of a view for lots and lots of jam.
Here’s to the next year, and to all the great gardeners and plant lovers who have visited my garden – in both the real and virtual worlds!