Asking the question "are there fairies at the bottom of your garden? A look at the magic one finds in the garden, away from the stresses of every day life., and what one does in the winter to while away the hours, reminiscence of a life in the postwar years in Norfolk England.
How else would the garden re-arrange itself in order or fairy law? Where else would that beautiful plant you didn’t buy, and don’t even know the name of appear in just the right spot, in all its magic glory? If I would have planted it, it would more than likely have up and croaked.
In the depths of winter it is time to look inward, to the home and to address the status of our souls. I often wonder what happened to all those children with whom I grew up. At boarding school in post war England, we obediently polished our black leather shoes every Sunday morning, and then in long “crocodiles” two by two, we marched off to the church at Old Hunstanton, all dressed alike in blue and white checkered cotton dresses, and blue school blazers, and save for the strategically placed elastic, the brisk Easterly breezes whipping off the ocean would have tore the creamy straw Panama hats right off our heads. We walked the country lanes past duck ponds and tiny thatched roof cottages inhabited by the elderly crones of the old village, to worship in the amber light of the old Norman Church, which smelled of lavender furniture polish and musty bibles. Do the others who walked with me wonder too?
Although the first day of spring has yet to arrive, the snow lingers on, the hours of daylight keep getting longer, the nights shorter, and the seeds that I have so carefully sorted this winter can soon be started indoors in order to get a head start on the exciting growing season soon to come.
Image via Wikipedia
Image via Wikipedia
Image via Wikipedia
Image via Wikipedia
Image via Wikipedia
Image via Wikipedia
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