It’s coming to the end of March and the grass has begun to grow; how exciting. Fading are the short, dark, cold, wet and dreary days of the deep British winter and that spark of new is slowly creeping in; the unborn calves on our farm are due to put in their first ‘nose-out, front feet-first’ appearance in the next couple of weeks; I expect some of you have started to see the unfailingly sweet sight of newborn spring lambs dotted about the fields. We can all start to breathe and the sun can start to shine if it likes.
With this newfound enthusiasm for life after winter I haul my lawnmower out of the nettles and set out to start my version of a ‘spring tidy’ reassuring myself that such efforts are good for the soul. I glance briefly at my own ‘very much a farm’ garden and briefly entertain all the plans still lodged in my head to build this, plant that, dig up the other thing and somehow turn the unruly and unkempt space into a thing of relative beauty (making a mental note to build into the vision a magic method of eradicating the poached hoof prints of our escaping bulls). I blow out my cheeks, big job. Too big.
Instead I drive on to Penny’s pretty garden at the old Farmhouse where I was certain I could help create an instant impression of order, and calm could be reclaimed. Admittedly, the lawn needed an industrial mow and the pesky brambles had smuggled their way out of the hedges and boundaries but also appearing out of hibernation were much brighter things. And there sitting serenely at the bottom of the garden, unphased by winter’s firm and icy grip is the brightest of all, Beth’s Garden – detected and unearthed a few years back by Penny and Beth’s many friends from the rubble of an original sunken garden and well. Now here is a work of art, design and love, carved out and cleverly hand-constructed on many levels, landscaped with benches, solar lights, a little buddha, butterflies on stands, rose bushes, metal archways and bordered by carefully chosen shrubs and small stones. A place to reflect and connect, breathe in the gorgeous scents of spring and summer and remember Beth. I work gently around its contours with my mower.
I have got some better ideas for my spring garden now and central to my new plan is simply to recreate a space to unwind, reflect, be calm and celebrate life even if the bulls did leave large potholes in the lawn. The sun still comes up dousing that lawn in sunrise yellow and goes down leaving it a happy crimson glow. And for these days I will always be grateful.
With our best wishes, Beth’s Wishes