Flowers on the Beach

Hello Friends!

What could possibly be more happy making than discovering flowers on the beach? I know!

On a gloriously sunshiny, blue skied afternoon I was strolling along Whitesands.  The gentle ocean breeze took the edge off the heat of the springtime sun, so it was very pleasant indeed.

The big Spring tide was out, so there was a grand expanse of golden sand on which to walk, and it looked peaceful and quiet away on the far end, so off I set. Up near the car park and Porthmawr Surf Lifesavers Hut people milled about on the sand, enjoying their afternoon.

A few intrepid swimmers braved the cold; some young surfing dudes received instruction in a group; and sunburn in the making was observed as people sat and enjoyed an ice cream, or strolled along the beach, or built castles of sand and fortresses of stone.

I like the far corners of the beach best of all; they are quiet and more contemplative, with interesting finds to interest and enlighten.  Here, in the peaceful space suspended somewhere between the soaring cloud puffed skies and  the fathomless blue ocean, as the life giving sun warms my face, I feel an overwhelming sense of calm, of being, and deeply connected to Gaia, nature, spirit, whatever you call that peaceful feeling of oneness with the Universe, or with your God.

As I walked down the beach, I took a path close to the sea which gently lapped. I thought of the surfer wannabes, not much surf for them to enjoy today, poor things.

I reached the far end and stopped, sat and listened, closing my eyes and letting the energy of the Universe flow into my consciousness before letting it steep deeper into my being.  I felt a complete oneness with my surroundings and let my spirit meditate on all the energy of nature that was flooding in.

The random raucous call of a lonely gull lifted me into a different state of awareness.

Unknown time had passed and I knew I had to return from the place of bliss my spirit had found back into the present, so I returned to the now, and turned to begin my walk back up to the distant car park.

I decided to take a path closer to the cliffs that edge this beautiful beach in the wild west of our country, and found many things to delight me.

A silver white crab shell caught my eye, an empty shell of a life once lived at sea.

on I walked until a dry and withering heap of the most delightfully red, inspiring seaweed on the high water mark caught my eye. Such colour, such vibrancy, such texture.

And then something truly magical ~ flowers on the beach!  Some, slightly higher up on the cliffs, but some right down on the stones that edge the golden sand. What an unexpected treat this was to find.

How gorgeous, how glorious they look as they scatter and tumble, falling in drifts down the craggy cliffs to the sandy shore below.

How tenacious life is, in even the most treacherous of places, lashed by stormy seas and scorched by summer sun, it finds as nook or cranny and takes a precarious, precious hold, learning not only to survive, but to thrive and bring such beauty in an unexpected place into the world.

Until next time
Deborah xo

The Joys of Spring

Hello Friends

It has been a week or two, maybe even three since I last stopped by for a chat. Time marches, ever on, and the flowers in my garden once more come into their own. Those that took a battering from Storm Hannah have done their very best to recover, and those that kept their precious heads below the parapet now flourish and flower, giving their most beautiful all.

Here's a little of what is blooming in my corner of The Shire this week.

Of course, it wouldn't be Spring in Wales without the rain, and the rain brings out the snails, so look who I caught, red handed on my lovely French tarragon. Shortly after this, it became a tasty snack for a nearby beady eyed bird!

My peony, an offspring of the one salvaged thirty years ago by my late father from a fate of going to landfill ~ he rescued it, brought it home, planted and nurtured it well, and it rewards me still.

The delicate clematis, the Lazarus plant, for it returned from the dead years after we thought it was lost, is slowly opening, bud by bud by precious bud

Each day I eagerly await and monitor it's progress

and beneath the towering clematis sits two of the many self sown columbine or aquilegia in many shades of purple and pink

 A few days on, the clematis is doing very well indeed

and opens out in all its glory

a little arty play with some filters

These two patio roses were bought by my dearly loved mother over ten years ago, and I had given up on them! They were pushed into a corner, neglected for nearly three years while my attentions have been elsewhere. I wish I had taken before photos, for they were in a truly sorry state, dry dead twigs with no sign of life and I held no hope, but still I decided to try again.  The best "before" I have is this, where you can see how poor a condition they were in after resuscitation commenced.

I cleared away the thick and choking weeds, refreshed the compost, added some Richard Jackson's Container Magic to the compost, and put them in a warm and sunny spot. For over a month I have tended with water and regular feedings of Richard Jackson's Flower Power, and just look at them now!  You would not recognise them. {I am not receiving any remuneration from Richard Jackson' I think the product speak for themselves}

The exceptionally fragrant Rosa Rugosa is in bloom, and soon the air will be filled with exotic scents of Summer

A Golden Wedding, the yellow rose of friendship

I do hope to come across the adult Red Tiger moth that will emerge from this beautiful, big caterpillar.  It will be a stunner, for sure.

and finally on our little tour around the garden, the Arum lilies are opening out in all their simple elegant beauty.

Soon, we shall step out into the countryside once more,

Until next time,
Deborah xo

A Metaphor for Life

Hello Friends!

I don't want to dwell on the damage to the garden caused by Storm Hannah, so I will tell you that I have freshly potted the uprooted fir tree and pretty much cleared away all the damaged plants, and although this leaves some peculiar gaps, it looks a lot better out there for a tidy up and removal of all the blackened and burned foliage.

I am happy to say that, despite losing foliage, buds that were just starting to emerge seem unscathed, and this morning the apple tree is turning quite pink with bloom!  Time will tell, but I am very hopeful now.  It might not look as good as I had hoped, but plants can recover quickly; all is not lost.

I wrote a short, reactionary piece of prose after Storm Hannah rampaged through and calm returned; I then found a suitable photo to accompany it.

My fellow blogger and online friend Martha Ellen {whose very lovely photos and words you can find here} said, when she read the shortened version on Twitter, that it sounded like a metaphor for life. She's correct, of course, although I didn't originally consider it as such as I wrote it.  I have taken her words to title this entry.

So, this is what I wrote:

In the heart of the storm the wild west wind hollers and howls; the sea rages; it roils and it boils; it hisses and spits; a bubbling cauldron of confused chaos and mayhem. Ominous black clouds roll in from the horizon robbing the day of it's light; you are battered; you are pitched and tossed at every turn; you are flotsam dragged wherever the wuthering winds and the treacherous tides take you. You bend to the will of the storm and survive. Slowly, surely, the storm rolls on, leaving you behind, and with unwavering certainty stillness returns; all is calm; all is well; and you sail on into calm water, in perfect peace and harmony, across a clear blue sea under a clear blue sky.

and this is the photo, taken a few years ago on a very early morning walk as the sun rose gently on a warm summer morning; all was peaceful and the blue ocean was millpond calm as it reached to seamlessly join as one with the cloudless blue sky above.

Until next time ~~~
Deborah xo

Storm Hannah

Hello Friends!

Sometimes the weather throws us a real curved ball, and as some of you are aware, indeed some of you may have felt the impact, of Storm Hannah as she barrelled in from the Atlantic Ocean this past weekend and wrecked havoc with winds of over 80mph across parts of Wales and England for over a day and a night.

We see big storms often, in fact we are seeing them more and more than we ever used to, and we are, in a weird way, starting to get used to them.  I don't plant out much in the way of vegetables or tender annuals until well into May now to prevent having to start again.  Usually, the hardy annuals in the garden survive, maybe a little battered and bruised, but nothing too severe.

However, Storm Hannah did her worst and when I looked out at my garden on Sunday morning, while Hannah still rampaged about, I found, with heavy heart, that I had many pots overturned, including one big 100 litre pot with a fir tree completely out of the pot. That was bizarre, as only the day before I had moved it to a sheltered corner, so to find it upturned and spilled was annoying.

Roses, hydrangea, aquilegia, my prized pasque flower, a copper beech to name but a few horribly blackened and burned to a point that I don't know if they will recover this year.  Neighbours are all showing the same signs, some worse than others. One neighbour is distraught as she specialises in roses and does not have a single good leaf on any of her many established and prized shrubs.

Here's some of the damage:

My dwarf camellia, which had been doing incredibly well and I was looking forward to a spectacular display, but it is shrivelled and burned. Some of the buds look okay, so we shall see.

I can hardly look at my much loved pasque flower without crying. Yes, a few of the shorter stems survive, but anything that had already bloomed is gone, the stems cruelly snapped in two.

The same goes for every aquilegia in the garden

A close up of the copper beech leaves. Overall the tree looks black and the leaves hang ready to drop.

Roses are like this all over the garden, some green survives, so there is hope.

The same for the hydrangea

And my poor fir tree, it just isn't getting a break at all.

Mostly the damage is blackened and burned leaves {mostly roses and hydrangea} and the broken and snapped stems of aquilegia and my precious pasque flower, and upturned pots. Others have suffered uprooted trees and broken branches, fence damage, and such.  We've all had to wash our windows too, for they were mightily dirty with plenty of gritty deposits carried in on the salt laden winds!

I hope your garden survived!

Until next time ~~~
Deborah xo

My Garden Sings in Raindrops

Hello Friends!

I am sitting in my cottage window, sipping a delicious mug of Constant Comment tea, watching the garden sway and dance in the gently billowing breeze, and listening to the early morning music of the raindrops as they pitter patter on the panes, and splitter splatter on the stones outside. The timpani section echoes from the chimney, and the chirruping birds provide the most delightful chorus.

The birds have been singing their hearts out since early morning, just before the dawn, but for now they take the side line as today centre stage goes to the rain ~~~ my garden sings in raindrops!

What a difference a few days makes! Just last week, over the long Easter weekend, we basked in a mini heatwave with gorgeous sunshine, gentle breezes, and brightly blue skies. People swarmed to the beaches, slurped on ice creams, and I am sure much chocolate was devoured on the plethora of Easter Egg hunts across the land.

I took photographs of my garden in the sunshine, which you can see here.  Today, with the rain, the blooms look so different, and even though the skies are grey the flowers glisten and glimmer with shiny pearls and crystal raindrops.

Here are a few.

I disturbed a nest of newly hatched spiderlings ~~~ shudders! And away they scuttle!

However much we gardeners wage war on snails, it cannot be denied that in the rain their shells glisten and glimmer, and beautiful colours and patterns emerge on the self contained homes of thes voracious predators of lettuce and lupins.

and finally, a few more flowers and seed heads from the garden.

A positively purply pink party of synchronised swimming swans

The simplicity of a single blade of grass, elegantly decorated with pearls of water

and my favourite seed head of them all, the wonderful Pulsatilla vulgaris

I wonder what surprises will be flowering soon?

Until next time~~~
Deborah