This evening the sun came out and shone on a golden hill to the east, a hill curved and surmounted by a bisecting fence.
In the distance the sands of Morecambe Bay glow amongst horizontal dark slabs of the incoming tide, flooding from the Irish Sea to the west.
A garden can be introspective, made of enclosed rooms and vistas but, it can also become part of the greater landscape that surrounds it, the passing of days, the moving of light.
We can see, on a good day, after rain has washed the pollution from the air, sixty miles south yet, because we are 360 feet up on a hill, the country rolls away at our feet - an extension of our lawn, beds and trees.
Our small acreage is only a small part of a bigger garden.
We can watch the seasons
pass - the dark days of winter provide us with colour when there is little growing at home, mists distort light and endow a magic air on the world.
So we have a much larger garden and we do not have to travel to enjoy its beauty
I am only glad that I do not have to mow and weed and manure the lot!