Golden and silver Valley
10 November 2014
The weekend got off to a shaky start for some.
It was bonfire night in the village, where we watched a fantastic display under the stars… and then the real party started in the village hall. I went to bed at ten. Charlie got home at 4am, with a pair of trousers ripped to shreds. Don’t ask me what happened. History doesn’t quite relate, but I believe it involved the entire village dancing on top of the bar.
The following morning the house was understandably quiet. But we decided nonetheless to tackle bulb planting. I don’t know what it is about ordering tulip bulbs, but it happens every year. I have a glass of wine or two and go mad. Then the boxes arrive. It’s kind of scary.
My task was relatively light. The beds and pots outside the house. Charlie was in charge of rows of tulips in the veg patch, and I reckon he planted something like 700 bulbs, or maybe 1000. Bonkers. The power of dancing. Here are my meagre beds.
It poured with rain half way through and we escaped into town and came back to find the valley suffused in an extraordinary golden light. I love this time of year at the best of times but the weather has been truly beautiful this weekend. A Golden valley.
Even the sheds at the top of the house glowed.
Even the pile of manure glowed. There’s nothing more that I love than a huge pile of manure. But you see what I mean?
We worked like crazy and as dusk settled we were nearly finished. The following morning was incredibly clear and bright.
I still had my pots to do:
But first, a walk around the garden to watch the rising sun.
Pots ready to start:
Spring green, Purissima, Black Parrot, and narcissi Avalanche, all safely in.
There is something so incredibly optimistic about gardening. Just as the year is turning into the deepest winter, and the shortest day is a few weeks away, we were in the garden in warm autumn sunshine thinking and plotting and planning next spring.
The day sparkled with silver. In between torrential showers, and the small Remembrance Day service in the church, the light shone in a way that I haven’t remembered in a long while.
It feels like a time of new beginnings, already.