I went to visit my Dad this weekend. Bit of a crisis, Mum had to go into hospital, so I zoomed up the A1 to York to give my Dad a hand.
Whenever I visit, we always walk around the garden. A chance to stretch the legs and get some fresh air. My Mum’s garden really, certainly the flowerbeds are – she put years into those deep borders. But the areas that catch the eye now are the orchard and the meadow. The season of mists and mellow fruitfulness is almost upon us.
This is a garden that has matured and settled into a slow rhythm. It has its secrets and surprises.
That slow rhythm is wonderful though: Flowering, ripening, setting seed, rebirth. And memories, gardens always have lots of memories.
My Mum came back from hospital. We were relieved and thankful. Life goes on.