Everyone suddenly burst out singing;
And I was filled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom,
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark-green fields; on – on – and out of sight.
When the page turned and we headed into 2020 and a new decade, what was I thinking? How mild it was? How much digging I had to do still?
I might have looked forward to a bit of skiing, but there was a lot to do in the garden, despite the weather
And then March turned a corner. The weather began to be glorious. Really unbelievably delightful…
It felt like the spring would be joyous, if this continued. Even the lawns might improve.
What would April have in store?
There is a price to pay for so much sunshine; we’re not set up for it.
So we roll into the summer; the beds I dug out are now full of colour and a sprinkling of rain perks all of us up a little
July and a mini Glast-no-bury took place in the garden..
and the flowers just did their thing
The tiredness, maybe exhaustion, becomes apparent as August leads into September
Yet still we have a lot to be grateful for
Autumn is also a time for those jobs that will pay dividends next year, when we host a wedding….
The weather begins to change, the cold air burns off some of the colour and the clear up leads to some fun times for a happy pyromaniac
And there we are. December. A new shed, a repainted summer house and more flooding….
It’s been a totally unique year, hasn’t it? For reasons none of us who survive will ever forget. But the garden is a great way to stand back for this clusterfuck of a year and think about Siegfried Sassoon’s poem which I started with. ‘Everybody Sang’ was written at the Armistice in 1918 at the end of WW1 and just as the flu pandemic was taking hold. They had been through seven shades of shit and still had more to come but it’s in our nature to sing, to see corners, not as hiders of dangers but as places to turn and see a brighter future.
We will sing; we will be those freed prisoned birds winging wildly again. And the garden will bloom and grow and shrink and on and on.
Hold that thought. It’s what makes us human.
Happy New Year from one man (channeling his inner turkey) and Dog