It’s so great to be back by the sea after four months locked-up in the city trying to stay out of the virus’s way. The sea is still here, bright blue and twinkling on a sunny day and the seaside garden is very lush. It must be all that winter rain and the mild conditions that have kept everything going these past few months.

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The seaside is very busy with our local lobster fisherman out laying his pots under the watchful eye of the village seagulls. We had some of his catch in the pub at the top of the cliff which has just reopened. There are wild swimmers about who were making their way past his boat to get to the old Tudor harbour. I’m not sure what the gulls thought of them with their bright orange floats. And another craze has arrived with flotilla paddle boarding and canoeing. It looks fun once you have got some sense of balance on the board! They seem to be oblivious of the jagged rocks and lobster pots beneath them.

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The garden needed a lot of weeding but we’re on top of it now, and the secret garden, the stone alley and terraces, including the rosemary waterfall, the roses, the wisteria and the verbena are all flourishing. We missed the clematises and fox gloves flowering but we’ll be ready for them next year. And the new chardonnay grapevines? They are trying. We missed the planting window for the ratatouille veggies but the onions and rhubarb have done well – the harvest has been rich with much soup and sauce making in train.

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And let’s celebrate the splash of colour provided by the tumbling nasturtiums that have taken over the potato and runner bean patches. It’s a blaze of yellows and oranges.

Flower of the month has to be this lovely apricot rose.

And the medieval hermit’s chapel out at the end of the peninsula watches over it all as it has done for hundreds of years.

If you’d like another Zen moment, click here for more and don’t forget to come back next time.

It is early summer now and unbelievably, the summer solstice, when the sun is at its highest in the northern hemisphere, has already passed on the 22nd of June. We are still locked in the city because of the virus and three months have gone by but the garden by the sea is thriving from pictures sent by our gardener. And it has gone pink-very pink!

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Meanwhile, in the Wimbledon garden, the lemon and blues that heralded the spring, and the bustle of the early white rambling roses, have given way to all shades of pink too. The star this month is the dierama – also called the angel’s fishing rods – bobbing in the breeze.

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Not to be outdone, the pink oleander and hydrangea are bursting into life.

And the etagere’s vivid geraniums make a lovely back drop for the bird bath while the bees like the fragile pale pink poppy.

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Finally, the old reliable pretty orchid is in full flower again.

If you need a zen moment, click here for more, and come back next time for a catch up, at last, on the garden by the sea.

The virus is still here so we have been locked up for another month in the city. But the seaside garden is doing fine judging from the lovely pictures of it sent by our gardener who has been working hard to keep everything in order. It has so benefitted from nearly four months of continuous rain and the recent heatwave. The plants are absolutely flourishing under these conditions despite the salt blasting during the many winter storms.

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The same weather has forced the early development of many plants in our city garden. It was originally part of Earl Spencer’s south west London estate in the 18th and 19th century when he planted an apple and pear orchard. Although those days are long gone, many of the gardens in this part of London have fruit trees as part of his legacy.

Our apple and pear trees always herald spring’s arrival with their prolific beautiful blossoms. Sadly, the show only lasts about a week or so when the winds arrive to clear them away. You can really understand the joy and sorrow the Japanese feel when they celebrate the spring blossom season.

But there is always more and the rhododendron, tulips, arum lilly and alliums are up next. They have been longer-lasting and no less beautiful. And this is the time when the tree fern and cannas are unwrapped from their winter covers to feel the sun once more.

The growing conditions have been just right for the next wave, the big scene stealer – the roses. Roses are tough and they do well in city gardens. From mid-May, the stage is set for the summer and autumn months filled with their contrasting shapes and colours. Wave after wave, and in the evenings the garden is filled with their fragrances. Bursting with buds and new growth everywhere, May is an exciting time in the city garden.

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The birds love this garden too. There are thrushes, a pair of blackbirds, many LBJs-little brown jobs- and blue tits, and watching over them all is King Robin-a very possessive territorial bird with a beautiful song. From time to time, a pair of jays and a woodpecker visit to eat and drink in the garden, and each evening flocks of starlings and parakeets fly over as they return to their roosts in the park nearby.

A charming squirrel family lives high up in the pear tree from where they mount their raids on the bird food, avoiding the suburban foxes that patrol the place in their oh-so-nonchalant way. You have to admire their cheek.

The virus means no one can travel, not even to the lovely seaside garden in Cornwall, so this month, while on lock-down, let’s reflect on a few memories made last April in southern Spain while sailing along the Guadalquivir from Seville to the Atlantic Ocean.

Andalucia is hot even at Easter, but in 2019 there was a heatwave so how the gardens survived in those conditions is a tribute to the Spanish gardeners. In Seville, there is much activity on the water in this busy urban part of the river from rowing and sailing to windsurfing.

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But downstream, it’s also a working river with oyster dredgers and local processing – much of it unchanged since the 19th century. Sailing through the flat lands of the Parc Nationale is slow and the sky is big – a good setting for the film La Isla Minima – a murder mystery set in these parts. Then you meet the big swells of the Atlantic to sail south to Cadiz and Cape Trafalgar.

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Southern Spain is blessed with a strong Moorish influence in its royal gardens including King Alfonso’s Alcazar at Cordoba and the Emir of Granada’s Alhambra. Both show the successful harmonisation of using symmetry and formal waterways, and sculptural and exotic trees to give that typical Moorish look.

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But there is more. The walls of castles and town houses become backdrops for bold red blooms. And of course, there is the magnificence of bougainvillea.

The March south westerly winds have been fierce but as fast as they blow the storm clouds in, they blow them out, and the sun breaks through.

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It’s getting warmer and the days are getting longer, especially as we have just changed to British Summer Time. The plants, so long asleep over the winter, are starting to sprout everywhere. And we still have the daffodils with their bright yellow pops of colour to herald the spring.

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The weak spring sun has brought strange visitors too – the wind surfers’ kites look like fabulous exotic birds flying in the bay.

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Not to be outdone, the surfers are riding the waves when they can find them, despite the cold- the water is less than 10 degrees at this time of year.

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Since these pictures were taken, the virus has arrived in our village and our world, like your’s, has been turned upside down. Nothing is stirring at the moment as we are “locked-down”, but it will pass. And the spring will arrive when it will be back to work in the garden to bring on all the new plants.

If you need a Zen moment and want to see a little more, click on the picture below and catch up on March in the Seaside Garden.

Storm season is upon us, and it’s fierce this year. We’ve had storms Ciara and Dennis which have caused widespread wind and flood damage across the country. Born in the north Atlantic, they intensified as they rode on the back of the high westerly winds known as the jet stream, and then slammed into our land mass with great force.

With the winds barrelling in at 75-80 mph, there is coastal flooding, storm debris and damage everywhere. But the oystercatchers are out and about!

They say you can have four seasons in a day on our part of the coast but at the moment, we’ve got the lot hour by hour. Wind, hail, rain and sunshine! On the plus side, it’s been very mild – no frosts yet.

As a result, the garden has already sprung into action and we still have four weeks to go before the clocks change to Summer Time.

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Camelias, heathers and hellebores are on show at the moment, and pale lemon primroses are starting to show their heads in Campanula Corner. And the daffodils have arrived in force just in time for St. David’s Day.

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On some days, between storms, shafts of bright sunshine flood the secret garden so we can sit out and enjoy a few rays of the sun’s warmth with our afternoon tea.

On others, the rolling fogs obliterate the horizon and cast a damp gloomy blanket over everything. Like nature, life has its familiar cycle. We’ve had our Valentine’s chocolates and celebration meals, and our Shrove Tuesday pancakes. Now it’s Lent and all is spare. But the spring is coming…..

If you need a zen moment and want to see a little more, click on the picture below and catch up on February in the seaside garden.

It’s still raining. Sunny days are few now as the winter progresses. We’ve had storm after storm rolling in from the Atlantic on fierce south westerly winds. On some days, the rain comes in as near horizontal sheets accompanied by hailstones that prick your face.

Sometimes, the combination of gale force winds and the hail-laden rains make it difficult to even stand up.

And you know the temperature is dropping, especially at night, when the local news announces which roads at the top of the cliff will be gritted. Down here by the sea, it’s 1-2° warmer so, despite the inclement weather, we already have many green shoots. First up are the daffodils; they are coming thick and fast ‒ about six weeks ahead of the cliff top gardens.

Their bright yellow heads offer welcome pops of colour and cheer you up in the stygeon gloom of winter.

Gardeners have to go out in all weathers to get the spring planting done. This year, we are planting chardonnay grape vines. They look like twigs now but I’ve been promised that my south facing terraces will be covered in vines later this year. Maybe they will be good enough to make some Chablis wine!

And there is further promise of good things to come. The wisteria and clematises look so desolate, but if you look carefully, you can see there are shoots everywhere.

And campanula corner, the fountains of trailing rosemary and the front terraces by the stone river are a show, even in the depth of winter.

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Last month, we honoured my Scottish ancestors by eating Tunnocks cakes and biscuits to welcome the New Year. This month, in honour of my Chinese ancestors, we are having the traditional celebration supper of fish, special dumplings, and lots of citrus fruits.

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And, to while away the long dark nights, we will play majong and sip tea. Happy New Year ‒ Nián nián yǒu yú.

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If you need a Zen moment and want to see a little more, click on the picture below to catch up on January in the Seaside Garden.

We’re moving into deep winter now with what seems like constant rain. The bright ‘harvest’ and ‘beaver’ moons of the autumn are a distant memory as the heavy clouds fly by and the high winds whip the sea into an angry frenzy.

Everything is reduced to hues of grey, and the horizon is often obscured by rolling sea mists. The barometer is showing persistently low pressures these days.

But the winter equinox passed on the 22nd, so the days are starting to get longer, and there are already signs of life in the garden: daffodils. They’re very early but, despite the storms, it’s very mild thanks to the Gulf Stream. Rising in the Gulf of Mexico, it travels north bringing its welcome warm waters to us on the other side of the ocean. If that ever changes as a result of our own short-sightedness, we are in deep trouble.

Despite the greyness, the secret garden is still a place for quiet contemplation, listening to the sea, and watching for a shaft of sunlight now and then as the clouds part momentarily.

Life by the seaside is busy in December with carol singing and concerts to celebrate Christmas, and also to honour the fishermen and wish them safe sailing through the year. This year, our community sang its heart out down by the harbour fighting against the noise of the roaring sea. After half an hour, we were spent. But revived with mulled sweet red wine and mince pies, we mustered for the charitable collection and a final rendition of “Come All Ye Faithful” and “Noel.”

The stone river and terraces of the seaside garden, the agapanthuses and cannas, are pared back and now resting. There is little to do except finish the chocolates in the Advent calendar and play snakes and ladders. What a treat!

Finally, the year, and decade, will end shortly. In honour of my paternal Scottish ancestors, we will be celebrating in the usual way – lots of Tunnocks tea cakes and caramel bars, clementines and sweet white wine.

A toast: to the Gulf Stream, and long may it continue.

If you need a zen moment and want to see a little more, click on the picture below to catch up on December by the Seaside.

The storm season and the rains have arrived. Lots of rain. It’s very wet. “Lorenzo” has been and gone, and now “Rebekah” is on its way. The clocks have gone back so it’s dark by 5 o’clock. And it’s chilly.

On a few lucky days, the sky is clear and the sun, although weaker, shines into the secret garden where the sheltered plants are still hanging on.

But the end of season cutback has begun. There is much work to do in between the rainy days. And a new resident has arrived – Snowy the Fat Cat. He loves snoozing in the sun. He reminds me of Cheshire Cat in Alice in Wonderland.

With the annual pruning, clarity returns as the terraces’ and western garden’s structure can be seen again. There’s the flourishing olive tree and campanula bank to the fore now they’re not acting as wallpaper to other more showy plants. But we still have a few pops of colour before winter arrives.

As the storms come and go, the local surfers ride the waves when they can. As for me, I’m indoors out of the winds waiting for the sun to come again.

Want to see more? Click on the Movie clip and enjoy a Zen moment.

Come back next time to see how we’re preparing for the coming winter…..