Our Magical Garden

Our garden is a nature reserve and is kept just this side of wildness.  I am still uncovering small stone walls and steps, peeling back years of ivy to make discoveries, even though we have lived here for over two years. The seasonal flowering of shrubs and trees is now becoming more familiar, so we can look forward, with anticipation, to the next big show. It starts with camellias and rhododendrons, leading on to blossom and clematis until the finale of superstar hydrangeas takes over in late summer. I have never seen such enormous shrubs with massive flowers in multiple hues.

As I write this, everywhere is embroidered with primroses. They lie beneath log piles, under trees. They line the high banks and edge the ponds. I have just spotted purple and white checked snakes-head fritillaries dancing by what we call, willow pond. Hellebores gather in  every corner, clothing bare soil in luxuriant  pearl, pink, and purple clusters.

The garden is also a wildlife haven. The heron is visiting again. He stands amongst verdant rushes, tempted by small black fish that silently slide through the pond.   A pair of mallards started swimming here, but the speckled female has now disappeared. We are hoping that she has retired to the safety of the small overgrown island at the centre of the pond and that we may have the joy of seeing ducklings here at Easter time. Frogs and toads have been chanting rudely and noisily. Later, there will be damselflies in blues and golds swirling in their magical waltz. There are several owls in the woods who call to each other as soon as dark falls. Sometimes an eerie mist curls into the wooded gardens from the distant moors and weaves a special magic.  

In sad times we watch the moon’s quiet face shine its hope through dark branches and feel that this garden is a magical healing place.