If only these pictures could convey the sweet perfumes that fill the air in my seaside garden, especially on a sunny day in the early evening down in the secret corner facing the water. The old crimson rosa and the creamy pink honeysuckle make for a potent mixed fragrance. It has been far too hot to work so lounging about in the hammock trying to read has been the order of the day. Even that is an effort.

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There has been some crazy weather of late. We have had a heatwave week and then torrential monsoon-like rain to break the high temperatures. The combination forms a growth mixture like no other. As a result, the garden is flourishing to the point of drowning the house in blooms and greenery. The gaps left by clearing out the spent spring plants have been filled with trailing geraniums and erigerons which are always greedy for more space. And of course, the ubiquitous rosemary plants have budged everything aside for their expansion.

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Meanwhile, the thirsty hydrangeas are now full of life. They are signalling where the acid and alkaline soils are with their showy pink and blue flowers.

The work on my historical novel has been a trial with much reorganising and rewriting but it is now getting there. Maybe another six weeks hard work will do it and that will be phase one over! In the meantime, there is messing about on the water to be done, and Tunnock’s to be eaten as fresh supplies have arrived this week from Yorkshire.

June is bursting out all over! It is a joyous month when everything goes pop with colour. But sadly we have now passed the summer solstice and the days will start to get shorter. It is all so fleeting so here are some moments to enjoy:

Tumbling and climbing roses along the stone river; cascades of rosemary with pops of erigerons and an arum lilly by the steps; and sisyrinchiums, geraniums, poppies, foxgloves and more erigerons lining the old wooden steps:

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Down in the secret garden, despite the storms, the rosa has been as fragrant and as crimson as ever and the dog rose is scrambling well; the agapanthuses are getting ready to burst open:

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All shades of pink are everywhere:

And down on the beach, no one is about, it is all quiet and the moment of zen is complete.

Come back next month for news of the book and enjoy a rich lemon ice cream when you can.

May’s weather has been terrible with storms rolling in from the Atlantic on regular pulses. At times, you cannot stand up as the gale force winds have been too strong. Storm debris is everywhere but the dumps of rain interspersed with warm sunny days has led to good growth conditions. Everywhere you look it is a tapestry of greens. It is the plants’ shapes and textures that give the variety and depth.

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As spring turns to summer tomorrow, there are pops of pinks and purples bursting through. Just look at these delightful aliums, erigeroons, chives, and trailing geraniums. They have given good service over the years.

And no less impressive are the old wisteria and clematises. I have no idea how they have the strength to hold on when the storms blast in, but they do.

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There is much more to come as the rose bushes are covered in buds. And there are new plants too – we are trying gladioli and anemones this year, plus more of the old troopers, agapanthuses and poppies. Will they stand up to the winds? We shall see. My room with a view is a great place to watch the storms and write my novel. Having restructured the story, it is behind schedule but half the chapters are now complete. It is a labour of love, like working in the garden.

Come back next time for news of the novel and the feast of bud bursts that will mark summer has arrived.

After six long months, it is great to be back working in the seaside garden. I ran around excitedly to take stock, fully expecting to see a lot of dead plants and weeds but I was pleasantly surprised to see it was mostly in order, and indeed flourishing. The weather has been glorious of late and the winter rains have created the conditions for growth.

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There is a real feeling of expectation as the Spring takes a hold. Buds are breaking everywhere you look and the tapestry of greens will be dotted with bright colours soon. But there are the early bud breaks to keep us going.

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Down by the old Tudor harbour, there is the feeling of expectation too – for the sea to cover the rocks and seaweed. It is a miracle of the tides that within six hours all this will be under the waves. You can see why the area was famous for smugglers and wreckers – those rocks are treacherous when hidden as they will hull a sailboat with ease. But not the little boats and canoes which are awaiting their owners to take them out for a spell on the water.

The lesson of the Virus – take pleasure in small things – is the rule of the day. So here we are with the last Tunnock’s Bar to enjoy with my sailor friends as we look at the view.

Come back next time for news of the book and the spring garden.

We are still in the City locked-up but it looks like we can return to the seaside in two weeks’ time just as the season turns into the Spring. The clocks have changed so the days are now longer and the storms have died down, mostly, so it is warmer. The garden will be shooting up ready for our return and there is a collection of salt hardy plants waiting to go to their new home. Our local friend has sent pictures to remind us of the beach walks that we have been missing:

Welcome to the followers from the Nineteenth Century groups of scholars and associates – my book set in London in 1880 will be ready for you in the late summer hopefully. In the meantime, you might be interested in this picture of our village nestled in the cliff side overlooking the bay where dolphins come for a fishy tea now and then. The hotel (now closed for redevelopment) is from the late 1800s and it was brought here from its original site a few miles away at the turn of the 20th century and rebuilt brick by brick in what was then a tiny fishing village. You have to admire the Victorians – they thought big, and they included an impressive stained glass window overlooking the grand staircase.

Easter is upon us and I’ve been saving my last few Tunnock’s bars to eat on the beach in celebration of our return. It has been a great challenge not to wolf them while we wait.

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Happy Easter to you all and come back next time for views of the spring garden by the sea . . .

Chinese New Year and Valentine’s Day have been and gone and we are still in the lock up. The garden camera shows this month’s weather has been very wet, with a lot of rain, stormy seas and high winds. And there has even been snow down on the beach on some cold days. But we now also get the odd day of bright sun and clear blue skies which will stimulate the plants to get going ready for our return. We haven’t been there since last autumn, six months ago, because of the virus, so there will be a lot to catch up on when we can travel, probably after Easter.

In the meantime, memories will have to do. From last October, we have the flourishing begonia pots and rosemary waterfalls lining the steps down to the front door, and over in the garden’s west end, there is a tapestry of different green foliage bathed in the afternoon’s soft light.

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And then there are the quiet evening walks along the seashore when the light is still good and it is not too chilly to be out. Memories include the last blast of the red hot pokers on the cliff edge and the parked canoes waiting for one more fine day.

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Best bit? It is sitting down on the old dock of the small bay in the early evening where local fishermen have been landing their catches since Tudor times when the water is high enough.

We change the clocks in four weeks so spring will be here soon and there will be much work to be done when we return. While we are waiting, there is a book to be written and Mandarin to be learnt. Oh and there is another round of Tunnock caramel bars to be eaten – a lovely lock up gift from one of my followers – thanks JEB for an inspired present.

Come back next time for news of the spring planting…..

Our Christmas and new year treats – Tunnock’s caramel wafers and tea cakes – are a distant memory and it has been a long cold January. The raging virus means we still cannot travel but a camera overlooking the seaside garden and the bay keeps us in touch with the weather. It has been very stormy of late with the most recent, Storm Christophe, pouring the contents of the ocean onto a very soggy landmass. There have been howling gales and stormy wild seas, and very grey leaden skies. But the daffodils are out!

It is a good time to hunker down and dream of better things to come like walking around our bay which is ten miles wide. To the west, there are rocky inlets and coves that are only accessible at low tide, and a steep climb up to a bench located at the crest of the cliff gets you a fine view on a clear day. It is worth the effort.

To the east, there are miles of white sands which are accessed via steep goat paths. As the bay curves round and you climb back up the cliff, there is a lovely path to an isolated medieval chapel standing out on the peninsula. It is worth the effort.

A good locked down project, getting fluent in mandarin, is the order of the day. Learning to read, write and speak a form of this ancient language is coming along. It is the Chinese new year on Friday 12^th February. The year of the ox starts with this Spring Festival and rolls around Valentine’s Day. We are hoping to travel after the virus review mid-month – fingers crossed that all will be well. In the meantime, Happy Chinese New Year:

Xīn nián kuài lè

Come back next time as we head towards a brighter time in the spring.

December has been very cold and wet as the storm season has arrived in force. We have had howling gales and heavy seas, and days on end of rain with the recent Storm Bella which came roaring across the Atlantic and hit us full on. There is much debris to clear but at least the water table will have been replenished. And we have now passed the winter solstice so the days will start to get longer and the sun a little higher. We did have one fine day and it showed how vibrant the plants can be even with all the salt-blasting and weather that mother nature can throw at them.

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It has been a truly awful year and we are now locked up for another month as the resurgent Virus rages still. All we can do is remember happier times and plan for renewal in 2021. When spring comes, the tiered garden going down to the house will be redeveloped with a mass of pinks and whites in Mexican fleabane- erigerons- and Japanese anemone to contrast with the blue agapanthuses. Dreaming is part of the joy of gardening at this time of year; the hard work will come in about 10 weeks, just before the arrival of spring.

For now, we are hunkering down for the new year tonight with board games, sweet wine and Tunnocks tea cakes and caramel bars, like last year and all the years previously.

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A toast: to life after the Virus, and dreams of the garden to come.