These are the things my garden told me

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The grip of winter lingers, hard to shake off like a knot deep between my shoulder blades. A cold discomfort in my heartspace. Breathe into it, the therapist used to tell me when I sought her help to relieve the recurring unease, her warm, magic hands melting tension away. I…
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I recognise the feeling now, my fourth cycling through this mark in the year, the third time while paying attention. A restlessness, an urge to sort…
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I am sat at my laptop staring at the garden trying to find the words. The garden is teeming with life, but I am thinking about death. I get up and go…
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I had planned to spend the last day of the year in the garden. Planting the last bulbs, sowing the first seeds. I woke up dreaming of the metaphors it…
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If the sun never sets on the British Empire, let me be of the realms of the moon. Nothing new has been said under the sun, but when I speak I find my…
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I try to understand the wound. What was the cause of the land and people’s severing? Why did those who lived here begin to feel it was not enough, to…
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It is May. The forerunner of summer. I walk round the garden under leaden skies, braced against the wind. There was no frost last night thanks to the…
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Yesterday was the spring equinox. Today things have already teetered off kilter, each day visibly longer than the night past. The race is on to sow…
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These are the things my garden told me

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