Perhaps it's best I took these shots indoors, at night, with my trusty Canon PowerShot G2 - you'd never guess, would you? - for how else would anyone believe this book wasn't the stuff of dreams?
Published by Peter Garnett, of London, in 1949, Donald McCormick's 'Islands for Sale' advises potential buyers how they may be able to sail to their dreams. I can only assume that after the war, a newfound zeal for freedom encouraged a spirit of exploration. Who, in their right mind, hasn't wanted, at times, to escape to an island? I confess it's been a dream of mine, but one I'm acutely aware cannot happen, and shouldn't...the world hasn't been made for me to have whatever I want; it's here for me to be part of. Islands represent an isolationism, apparently timeless, but possibly stuck in time.
And my excuse for posting 'Islands for Sale' here, apart from its beguiling oddness, is that gardens too are sorts of islands, but their redemption or redeeming virtue lies in the fact they're alive. However much they might appear to be islands, or isolated, or conceptual, gardens are implanted in a wider landscape. What occurs in them has ramifications outside their fences. And from outside their fences, there comes to the garden-maker a dialogue elucidating values of aspiration.