Writing Ways

Trim and Propper

| Gary Webb

Today I’ve brought forward and rewritten an article originally created whilst working at a garden in Northamptonshire, called Sulgrave Manor. My aim now as then, is to pay homage to the formal garden hedge, an often overlooked feature that in my opinion deserves more understanding and appreciation. After all, given that much of our land is laced with hedgerows of one form or another, is it that we’ve grown to see hedges simply as dividers of territory? 

If like many other garden folk you already have a longstanding respect for a good garden hedge, not just those ones between gardens but those placed within gardens themselves, you’ll understand exactly my angle of approach to the subject. If however you’re a ‘flash the trimmer over and move on’ kind of gardener, and don’t wish to hedge your bets by reading to the end, (pardon the pun) then I wish you well on your own hedge trimming journey of discovery; farewell my friend.

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Growth Potential – Down at the Allotment Garden

| Gary Webb

Think allotment gardens are just about food and flowers? Think again! Thoughts on an afternoon session of growth on the allotment.

Cabbage whites out on manoeuvres,

Get through those nets if you can,

Sunlight is bright despite all this cloud,

Trimmer blades rattle along a hedge in the distance,

Beans are climbing their canes, at last.

–

A welcome breeze sways taller stems back and forth,

Spins now and then two little sun bleached windmills,

Raises goose bumps on my now resting arms,

Maybe later, rain will come after all.

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A Great Escape?

| Gary Webb

Bolting to the hills for some peace and tranquility, to relax and connect with nature beneath the stars. Well, that was the plan…

Our journey consumed motorway and main road miles until eventually, we found ourselves driving in and out of shady hollows and threading along narrow twisty lanes. By the time our dirty tyres rumbled over the farmyard’s concrete and gravel, a sheepdog barking its welcome, it felt as though we’d literally bolted for the hills. Our retreat, it must be said, whilst feeling a little selfish did seem long overdue, being much needed to restore some kind of balance.

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Writing on Gardens and Nature

| Gary Webb

I might have sunk into the depths for a while there, but I’m back now and getting into my old writing ways, on gardens and nature.

If you gave me the stage with an open mic, words would probably fade and I’d likely find myself with little to say of consequence. However, if you gave me a scribbling stick and asked me to write something down, I’d likely be back to you in no time at all asking for more paper, and a pencil sharpener. Writing does something for me, and over time it’s grown to the point where I couldn’t imagine living without it in some shape or form. Lately however I have needed to step back a little.

Recovering from illness, I’ve hardly found myself not able to write for a few weeks now, and I have genuinely missed it, indeed my last post back in April took quite a while to pull together. Feeling under parr has made it

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Just Outside Basecamp

| Gary Webb

Re-evaluating a writing future.

Nothing but fresh air has arisen from this blog for over a month now as I’ve busied myself establishing a Substack and with a writing course. I’m happy though to at last get back to my own writing ways, on Gardening Ways, where you find me re-evaluating my writing future.

Writing for me has steadily grown over the last decade since taking to blogging platforms, initially to help with promotion of my workplaces and to share my love of horticulture, gardens, nature and more. Throughout the years of blogging, I do think that I didn’t quite grasp the creative path I was in fact pursuing, both through my gardening and online activity, so whether through plants, words or pictures, I was simply happy to be toying with them.

Gardening aside, assembling images and text and posting to social media has occupied many hours of my so-called spare time, maybe too many. Oftentimes, I’d rise early

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At One with the Wall

| Gary Webb

A personal response to the felled tree at Sycamore Gap.

There are so many trees I have yet to converse with, but I do count myself fortunate to have encountered the Sycamore Gap tree a couple of times; a tree that’s mysteriously and defiantly prospored beside the mighty Hadrian’s Wall in Northumberland. The fact that this tree even established itself, let alone lived this long time and in such exquisite form, is nothing short of a miracle.

I remember my first glimpse from the road of the tree nestled in its gap, and eventually on foot when I paused on the bank above, not wanting to rush my arrival but absorb the tree from on high. I paused awkwardly, but repeatedly all the way down the steps to the bottom of the gap, wanting to catch a glimpse into the tree’s crown without wishing to hold up the steady stream of walkers.

Once at the bottom of the gap I walked away from the tree to find my space, a place to wait and observe; rushing up to the tree didn’t feel right. At a distance and from a rocky seat, I could properly look on whilst trying to understand what made this tree, a simple sycamore, so special.

I’ve met so many sycamores or ‘Great Maples’ in my time, many having proudly stood in prominent places with their flaky trunks and large often

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My Open Door Policy

| Gary Webb

With my family slumbering away in their beds I arrive downstairs a little after seven to start a new day, push back the long curtains to flood the room with light, and prop open the door to my green garden. After shuffling back to the kitchen to make coffee, I sink into the soft chair with my writing book beside me open and ready for words. On the whole this has become my daily routine, at least during the school summer holidays when I’m lucky to get an hour of peace and quiet before the day begins proper.

Sitting motionless and peering through the open door, I first notice the slender leaves of a tall ornamental grass swaying in the breeze, a Miscanthus, then a drop of dew gently falling to the ground from the leafy tip of a spider plant on the patio table. Above those, long clear rays of light are reaching over the garden fence and illuminating about a third of the garden, the larger remaining space still in shade. The garden is calmly easing itself into the day, much like myself.

With a constant hush of vehicles in the distance, it’s obvious that for many folk the day is already on the move, the sound of the traffic setting a monotonous base tone for the not so great outdoors. For a few moments, noise from the ground is overtaken

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Turning the Tide

| Gary Webb

On a slightly raised section of beach with high marram grass dunes behind me, I’m sat watching the sea briskly approaching high tide. Its advancing front line brings distinctive sounds of rushing and smashing as each wave folds over another, the odd leading wave pushing further up the beach and disappearing into the sand. A keen breeze fills my ears too, lifting the driest and lightest sand grains and streaming them into anything and everything – but all is peaceful.

I’m here because I need time to think and clear my head of worries I’ve carried for too long, and I’m hoping this will do the trick. Since peeling myself away from the family holiday and landing in this spot, I’ve written a little, tried listening to an audio book which dealt far too much noise, and sat quietly. Right now though I’m laid back on a tartan picnic blanket, its corners weighed down with chunky beach stones, and I find myself hovering just this side of sleep, not daring to drop-off completely.

With my head turned to the sun I welcome its breeze tempered warmth on my face and with eyes closed, I’m happy just now listening casually to the coastline sounds of people and nature. What if every day could be like this I think to myself, realising

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A Swift Piece

| Gary Webb

The sky-scape is so dazzling I can only look up for a few moments each time, and only then through my darkest sunglasses. Across the brightness though some fast moving darker flecks catch my eyes, and in the moment I see them, I hear their cries too.

I’m sitting on a shaded bench behind my house you see, a comfy perch chosen to give me the best view of my garden and skies above. With some regal lilies flowering just a few steps away, the air is strongly perfumed and I wonder how far it drifts beyond the fences.

Those darker flecks of course, are swifts, a bunch of the speediest birds who despite their apparent toughness are positioned on the red list, meaning these birds

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