It's night. It's Friday. I know tomorrow, when I want to go out and direct the making of a sequence of divinely-inspired garden images, I'm going to be lugging an unwieldy wheelbarrow, staggering on my arthritic knees and ripping out metres of couch grass instead.
So I've run around like a mad peacock - not that I'd think such a ridiculously extravagant bird would have anything to do with me ordinarily - and caught some interior images, just before they flew away..
There IS vegetation here, sort of...the point I may want to make is that plants occupy places in our lives left, right and centre, and the notion of being a gardener, to me, is not simply something I do OUTSIDE, but something I take with me, wherever I go...
Do other gardeners have to feel. or DO feel, that their gardening takes place around them, in other ways? As a concept, 'gardening', to me, is a state of nurturing, involving my relationship with the organic, natural world, even when I'm not outside in what may be recognised as a garden.
Around me I have built, all my life, bowers. I am wondering if some part of me has wings, and is waiting for a moment, whether it be in the garden proper, or in my constructed interior garden, when 'garden' is no longer a matter of being inside or outside. I will fly everywhere, and there will be no fences. Is this a dream of Eden?