August | 2016 | Green Writing Room

Our garden is frying and, owing to my absent-mindedness in June when I emptied the underground rainwater harvester AND burnt out the pump, soft rainwater is in short supply. The pump is now (expensively) replaced. This shows the challenge of waterproofing the electrical component. I just love the men at play – sorry – work’.

Meanwhile the vegetable plot which was mostly growing marigolds,

is now pouring out beans – this morning’s haul – runners on left and flat French climbing bean Algarve on right – they are delicious and stringless (unless you miss them for weeks). Autumn raspberries make good grazing and we are eating the first tomatoes too. I’m getting quite excited about the peppers. Patience is still required; we must wait for the yellow ones to turn red and the green ones to turn yellow … before they’re ripe. My husband has been hard at work in the unpleasaunce, recycling more parts of the old shed and has produced a … temple?During the June storms gravel was swept all the way down the concrete path on the right. This is because the ground on the other side of back fence is two foot higher – hence the barricade of ancient building stones that we have found around the garden. The old shed door atop the two uprights is meant to provide another log shelter.

Some rather crazy colour schemes I am enjoying. And in lovely contrast the indomitable Californian tree poppy (Romney coulteri) is lighting up the dried out August garden. I treat it mean and it never fails.

I loved Cynthia Reyes’s first Memoir A Good Home, so I picked up the continuing story An Honest House in happy anticipation. This is a book with a perfect title and has been

my companion during a more than hectic summer. The night before my own book launch I read the words ‘And then it was May 17, only one day before the book launch’. Coin-cidences aside, this book faced up to some very difficult themes with total honesty. A supremely difficult life-changing event – a car accident, and its consequences – physical impairment, chronic pain and PTSD are things that can and do happen to anyone. They are explored with a rare mixture of humour and intensity.

This book is a bumpy ride, where the highs and lows follow each other in quick succession – I laughed over the Valentine, I wept over Keats, I laughed over ‘a job that pays’. There are few easy-walking meadows in this story, because it is about the mountains and valleys. Among the things that struck me was Cynthia’s insistence on facing up to something we all know – it is never a good time for a difficult or dangerous conversation – and dealing with it so courageously.

When the story introduces the ultimate twist, it is even more powerful, because it is true. The whole book is about honesty, love, family life, happiness and faith. And if, like me, you do not have the kind of faith Cynthia has, this is also fine. She makes it easy to empathise with her faith instead.

By chance, I was given another very slim memoir titled Ann during this period. This was a private summary of a life of drama, pain, good homes, faith and also much happiness. I am so grateful Cynthia and Ann for telling us their stories of family life, so that none of us feel alone when we, too, meet the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

And talking of families, the most wonderful gift arrived from my American son-in-law’s parents, Sharon and Rick. Here is a poor photo of my beautiful new little tree, an Albizia julibrissin. There will be more in the future.