BACK TO THE FUTURE

It always intrigues me that here we have our patch of land from which we are making a garden and all the time it is desperately trying to revert, first to grass and brambles, then to tangled shrubbery and finally to high forest.

All right I have skipped a few steps but you get the concept.

We struggle to weed, mow, prune and shape this plot against its will.

Even the "Wild Garden" is controlled, not really wild.

And it is b***** hard work.

We lost a month in the spring and have never caught up.

Also, as age and general deterioration

catch up we cannot do as much.

I can see the day when we come home, fight our way to the front door and slam it on the jungle that once was our garden.

Yet, you know, even in that jungle flowering plants will push through like the acanthus here, managing to compete with the vigour of the wild, old fruit trees will bear, fruit and daffodils and bluebells will bloom.

Just as now, when one walks up the wood and stumbles on the delight of a self sown flower the same would happen in a reverted garden.

Life of all kinds is remarkably tenacious.

The instinct is to reproduce, to survive.

Talking of newts - R saw one by the pond - I continue to excavate the stream and drag out weed, I made ten jars of marrow and apple chutney (not sure it is edible) and five pots of cauliflower soup. R likes cumin in it. I potted on some winter sprouting broccoli seedlings and potted up some Tete a Tete daffs for Christmas so they will probably flower in January as usual with Christmas bulbs.

Wet grass = cannot mow.

But the rain can produce some wonderful sights. I just wish it would not do it so often.