Dear friends, I have taken the difficult decision to stop blogging altogether for the foreseeable future. I have many things I’d like to talk about, but I had almost stopped posting because I could barely fit in visiting and commenting on your sites. Now even that is one activity too many in the packed life we live. I shall drop in occasionally on your posts, but make no attempt to keep up or comment. Life is good, and now includes knitting for a new generation. It also includes looking after family, gardening, giving talks, some exercise, a little meditation and, if possible, writing.

I wanted to put up a last post about my Big Garden Works (originally planned for last December), but the builders have not yet finished their part. This is what the garden outside the back door looked like (taken from a window) last August.

This was the planned redesign for this area. The photo below shows where we have got too now. We are waiting for the stone steps and the resin-bound surface on the path. Meanwhile I am digging the old bricks and flints out of the area to be grassed. The turf will be delivered next week and we must lay it within two days. I am enjoying building the path around the little apple tree, but am very frustrated about the endless delays on the work that was going to take ‘three to four weeks’ and started in February. I know it will be finished one day.

I started writing this post, because a violent rainstorm, plus thunder and lightning, sent me indoors, here is a photo, looking towards the house, after the storm 

I cannot leave without an appreciation of this little book of poetry. I have slowly fallen in love with The Human Hive by John Looker. It celebrates the work by which we all live now and have lived throughout human history and it does so with beautiful, colourful precision. There is a completeness to the structure of the book which slowly reveals itself as you read and understand the different sections. The writing is moving and yet self-effacing – the least introspective poetry I can remember. A great companion for any occasion and can be slipped into a pocket, read during a sleepless night or a long train journey.

Some of my beloved maples to finish. A three year old seedling that my husband is bonsai-ing. 

Trompenberg, that was so badly frosted last year, now in good health again.

I don’t want to be churlish and switch off the comments (even if I knew how), but I’d be perfectly happy if you didn’t comment.