For your stray attention this weekend...
On gardens and their humans
Since we last met in this newsletter, I’ve spent quite a lot of time tending to my garden. This has not traditionally been my strong suit; I usually spend the high summer months searching for a place to put a deckchair among the raggedy plants and voluminous weeds. Sure, I like beautiful gardens, but creating one never seemed like something I might be able to do.
What changed? I lowered my expectations. My previous attempts to establish a garden has involved wild plans to feed the whole family for nine months of the year, or to create the kind of breathtaking vistas that would make Vita Sackille-West weep. This time around I’ve planted a few flowers and bushes that might make the whole place a bit prettier. I fully expect about a quarter of them to die, and so far that has come true. But I already have lovely, tall foxgloves with speckled throats, and I’m absurdly proud of the whole enterprise.