Like Gardens Do

| Gary Webb

A comfortable though long journey ended when I opened the car door into a sodden overhanging conifer; it wasn’t the only time I’d get wet that afternoon. Rain was set in for the day, and would only pause occasionally to catch its breath. For the first time in months I was back in my raincoat, with my faded gardening hat ready for action too.

The garden with its new gardener was the focus for the afternoon, and aside from a decorator darting swiftly in paint splashed dungarees from van to the house and back, all that could be heard was the rain. Water poured from the heavy sky glossing over the old flagstones paving the Manor House front, and streamed from the old lead downpipes into mossy drains. We decided to start the afternoon with some steaming black coffee in the gardener’s kitchen.

Chatting whilst watching the weather through an open door, all that we could see was an enclosed courtyard, but in no time at all the raising light level lifted our spirits. We moved out swiftly and through the arch into the damp grey garden, crunching across the gravelly drive towards an area in need of a plan.

On the way we perused empty borders, and some packed full of wet perennials just going over, then made footprints through sodden grass as we moved towards the once glorious garden. Pausing before shallow steps up

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Autumn Is…

| Gary Webb

As if by magic we find ourselves in autumn again and preparing for the inevitable changes that come to challenge our seasonal preferences. Some feel the loss of a memory-filled summer deeply, disliking the inevitable tumble towards chilly days and long dark nights, whilst some, me included, don’t begrudge the tumbledown season at all, in fact quite the opposite.

I feel the natural landscape craves the autumnal change like dry oars need water, or thirsty bees need nectar. Indeed if plants could talk, I’d imagine them right now whispering wearily of how they’re needing this slower more restful time, after their long and somewhat arduous season of growth. This year alone they’ll invariably have seen off extreme temperatures, drought, flooding and attacks from predators, so surely they’re due for some rest and recuperation. In many ways I’m attuned to their situation, feeling mindfully at one with gardens and the great outdoors, although despite ambition, I doubt if paid ‘hibernation leave’ will ever come to be.

Spring and summer seasons for me, as for many folk in the horticultural world will often have been long and challenging after negotiating the fastest growth periods, new season or ongoing projects, and numerous progress checking delays – holidays included. Last year for example in 2022, drought impacted so many places and

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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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Hugging the house and garden

| Gary Webb

There aren’t many in the gardening world who’ve not heard of Munstead Wood, the former home of gardening icon Gertrude Jekyll VMH (1843 – 1932). As a place largely off the garden visiting trail, it’s more than a little charged with mystery and intrigue. It was something of a treat then to be given the opportunity recently to visit, and I couldn’t help but put pen to paper to record my experience.

After a warm welcome and much discussion, I stepped from some worn flagstone steps beside the house to explore the garden. Venturing across the soft moss-filled lawn I turned about, looking carefully to really understand the place, and began to see that it wasn’t indeed all about the garden.

Edwin Lutyens’ Munstead Wood
© Gary Webb 2023

Cut into the hillside terrace before me was a large and quietly confident local stone house, rooted as firmly as the trees all around. It was a long handsome building of simple lines and shapes which brought control to the predominantly leafy scene; it was the Lutyens architectural masterpiece I’d looked forward to seeing.

The house was longer than tall, an aspect emphasised by parallel runs of white edged leaded windows nestled in silvery oak frames. Up above though, a pair of tall chimney stacks contrasted, adding bold vertical strokes for balance. The structure for me

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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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Making time for me…

| Gary Webb

It’s been a little while since I put some time aside to write specifically for my blog but I have, just like those little buzzy things in the garden, been a very busy bee of late. Today though, for the summer solstice, I’d planned to spend a much calmer day, mostly by myself doing whatever felt right – even if that ended up being nothing at all.

Heading into 2023, I somehow knew it would be a challenging year as I continued to establish in a working role that for me, was very different to anything I’d done previously – in some respects it felt as though I’d started a second career. As the year would progress, I knew I’d need to find time that I could call my own where I could think, read, write or do whatever – you’ve probably worked out that it turned into a writing kind of day!

Defining my own style hasn’t been an easy process I have to say, and I’m sure many would quickly say I’ve some way yet to go. But if you’ll allow me a little self criticism, I’m first to admit that frustratingly, I often get bogged down in detail, and all too often

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Mowing Past

| Gary Webb

As the grass cutting season picks up pace, I’ve found myself contemplating my relationship with lawn-grass, and after spending so many days of my life being paid to cut it, I have to say I’m quite torn – maybe I’ve had my fill. In fact, if I had a delete button for the lawn in my back garden, despite the beautiful green look it presents, I might well choose to press it and do away with the lawn completely. For me then, might my home lawn mowing days be nearing their end?

Perfect Partners

Being around the middle of May, the grass growing season is racing away with itself, and so grass cutting of course is quite topical. Verges along roads and garden lawns have moved in just a few short weeks from being chilled-out to a state of relentless growth, and the

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Buds to Berries – A Handsome Hawthorn

| Gary Webb
Fresh new year shoots.

Out of cold grey metal-hardened bark, the softest greenest shoots miraculously appear each spring. Keen new growth for a new season appears from tangled stand alone trees, or from individuals intertwined within field hedgerow communities.

Wire thin, pliable and verdant stems along with tiny fan shaped leaves build and stretch themselves towards the light. As growing days pass,

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