A valuable first hour of the day watching the garden and day unfold.

Being the first to awake, I pull back the living room curtains to let in the light, and reveal the garden. Sitting with a mug of hot water and taking time to appreciate some waking time alone, I relish the fact that for a while at least, all is calm. All is calm, that is, but for the occasional airplane and birdsong, both effortlessly travelling through air, brick, and glass.

Outside, bright sunshine splits the early morning garden clear in two, two thirds to the left is bathed in warming light, the remaining third looking somewhat cooler in shade. It’s a superbly serene beginning to the day, and as I sit quietly observing, blocking out the day ahead and thinking over the work that’s gone into the garden thus far, I begin to write.

The scene before the picture window presents a young, maturing garden, green mostly and bordered by a fence recently painted black. As a composition, the garden’s content has been laboured over for some time, ideas initially scribbled onto paper then marked on the ground and eventually, mostly, realised. There’s more yet to achieve, as often the way, but beyond the glass is a scene that now, I’m finally happy to say, passes for a garden.

What began life a little over two years ago as fence-to-fence turf rooted firmly in a claggy grey clay, is now a varied picture full of shapes, colour and importantly, life. Curving perimeter borders holding textures and forms now wrap around the lawn, looping out to vary the scene, and trees reach up from improved soil toward the sky. Granted, many of the woody plants are some way off their full potential, but they’re beginning to make their presence felt, spreading their branches to provide interest and intrigue exactly as planned.

So far, only a handful of shrubby plants have grown above three feet or so although, being head and shoulders above others they move often, more easily catching the breeze as it swishes invisibly in and out of the space. Shrubs might frame the future of this garden, but a few more stars will be taller again, the trinity of youthful trees selected to both enliven the space and feed the air, and I can’t help but dote on them.

A cherry blossom tree of seven feet or so contrasts noticeably with the dark fence behind, holding a canopy of taught stems that shift vigorously whilst its leaves and tiny fruits glow in the morning light. Nearby, a silver birch, its white lower stems lighting up despite being in shade waves its taller whippier stems gracefully across the fence to the world. The trio is completed across the garden by an heirloom tree, a seed-grown rowan rooted in history; the mountain ash might well hold a fiery bright berrying future, but for now I’m just happy knowing it is there, growing alongside us and the garden.

As restful and composed the morning garden looks from inside, outside activity grows too. A small foraging bumble bee lumbers into the space for a while, and countless flies can be seen zigzagging and speeding through the air. Two starlings visit as I continue to watch, pecking across the lawn in search of leatherjackets, and a robin and blue tit individually pause at the bird table to grab some of the seeds put out last night.

After a while a female blackbird arrives, carefully exploring the ground in search of food and bedding, hopping about and throwing bark mulch across the edge of the lawn; some days I rake it up, most days they throw it back. Whilst the blackbird pauses often to check for predators, two magpies in another moment show a little more bravado, hopping up closer to rip threads from a rush mat near the window: you’re very welcome, I think to myself!

Rounding off my thoughts, I realise the sunlight has now reduced the shaded area a little, a few more seeds have left the bird table, and a little more woody litter has been strewn around the lawn’s edge. Leaves are busy taking nourishment from the sunshine, roots are drinking and drying the ground, and the daisy flowers nurtured in the lawn have mostly opened for the day.

I understand that gardening is about the doing, of course, but through moments like these I’m reminded of the benefits of taking time to look at a garden properly, of taking moments like this to observe and process how a garden is growing. By absorbing the evolution and development of a garden, and especially by seeing how wildlife interacts with it, only then can we really begin to understand the value that plants and gardens bring to our lives.

Anyhow, it’s time for me to stop writing now, to stretch a bit, pop on my boots and head out there. After all, whilst I know the garden is perfectly happy to grow its own way, I would like to grow alongside it too!

I hope you’ve liked reading this post, and that you’ll return for more soon. You’d be very welcome to subscribe (it’s totally free!) and join me in the garden again soon.

Kindest regards, Gary Webb