This is a page about a garden, my garden. I have been working with it for almost 30 years. That is, not making it, but, shifting it about, playing with it to suit the family, our current dreams and weekend games.
We have come to the point when the garden is outgrowing us, in spirit and literally, and dying while it does so.
For the last year or so a pointless job has soaked away my energy leaving me too preoccupied even to notice the slow changes, the gradual aging of everything around us.
Trees fall, but over time, ever more slowly.
Now in the wetter than wet rain and later than late spring I will tidy up, cut the trees, grind the mulch, clean the gutters, follow the traces of my ambitious ghost.
Mostly you will see photos of things that exist at once in memory and in the moment, also in the imagination, the three magic ingredients of presence.
There might be the odd explanation but this is an essay in images, at least one a week.
How does your garden grow?
I hope this one works for you!
(October 21 2013)
I built some ponds in the middle of our backyard and set up a pump to circulate water round them. Before they built the Farmer Freeway the waterfall sound at night was terrific. Now you can hear nothing but dusty traffic. A peppermint tree chose to grow sideways across the pond at the point where it touched the concrete path. Instant Japanese, just like a screen by Korin or another Momoyama artist. The late Akio Makigawa, the Australian/Japanese sculptor, on whose work I was writing a book joked about it.
Now the tree has leaned over so far that it will have to be cut down as it might otherwise wrench power and water lines from the ground when it falls over.
This has been the best ever year in our ponds for the irises that inspired Korin and through him Van Gogh. For the first time the scarlet bougainvillea that I planted on a trellis for background has exploded into blossom. It will soon have to go too.
(October 13, 2013)