Our garden used to be part of the field where the horses live and, despite my OH’s huge efforts, the garden is putting up quite a fight to remain a field.
When I first lived here with my two small daughters, the horses were allowed everywhere and used to wander about close to the house, knocking on the back door or rattling the snib (thank you Haakon) for a quick perusal of the biscuit tin. We had no garden. Just horses and ponies everywhere. At night, Iacs would loom in the kitchen window and block any tv signal. It was wonderful and no one minded.
Once my OH moved in, from Englandshire, he had some romantic notion of a garden and the bit of field around the house was duly fenced off. Since then it has been a constant battle – between my OH and the gradual encroachment of the field trying to return.
Anyway, this time of year the wild flowers in the garden are amazing. For me, they outshine any cultivated plants. I am not a gardener.
And the smell.
Oh my goodness, the air is honey-like sweet from the clover that has gone mad and the rosa rugosa.
We also have “seggies”, the beautiful yellow-flag irises (Iris pseudacorus), growing wild by the water, in the fields and therefore the garden. They attract the insects but they are pretty and “very Shetland”.
Wherever I wander I am never alone.
There is always my small retinue of followers.
However, when Lambie and friends were banned from the garden a few years back (Lambie was caught eating the sacred willow trees and there was something about out of control sheep muttered), I gave up sitting there and prefer our outside table and chairs so everyone can be together.
So no one really sits in the garden these days. Shouldn’t have banned Lambie; just sayin’.