nature

Postcard from a Seaside Garden in November

/ Annie Graham / 1 Comment

Almost the end of the year and a time for reflection as the winter’s storm-laden winds approach. On the odd day, spills of thin sunlight illuminate the vacant beaches, too chilly to linger for long. The gaudy coloured canoes that scream summer and the little rowboats and lobster pots are now neatly stowed until warmer days return. And it’s sepulchral quiet – nothing is stirring. Just the rolling rhythmical sea lapping on the shore.

This is a good time to be holed up in my writer’s lodge reworking draft chapters to create layers in the story of a whistleblower caught up in the byzantine maze of medical politics. To most of my former colleagues, this is about the everyday push and shove of doing clinical business, but to others, not schooled in how such things work, it is a revelation. It still chills me as I recall some of the individuals whose behaviours were so dire, and cruel. The view and sounds of the sea give great comfort in such moments.

Over in the veggie terraces, the last of the leeks have been pulled and for me, they too easily form a distraction when awful memories intrude. My displacement activity of choice is making soups and pickles using my fabulous 10 litre Italian pot. Much leek and potato soup will be the product of this week’s anxiousness. What a balm for the sore mind of a fretting writer.

So it’s farewell to the year with the dogwood’s show of its seasonal red stems. And, as a portent of things to come, an early hello to next year’s daffodils and poppies. I’m not sure why they have bloomed about three months early, but they are a welcome sight in the coming stygian gloom of winter.

An intense period of writing follows… the sociopaths have been let loose, and they are running around my chapters out of control causing mayhem everywhere they go. Just got to reign them in and weave their stories into my story.

By the time I write again, the winter solstice and Christmas will have been and gone. Enjoy the festivities and peace that will descend. And come back next time for more news as the story of everyday sociopaths unravelling before your eyes takes shape.

Postcard from a Seaside Garden in October

/ Annie Graham / 1 Comment

Storm season has arrived with Amy and Benjy blasting in off the ocean and dumping a ton of rain on my very parched seaside garden. Relaxing in the sofa chill zone is the order of the day now. And on productive days, I get some writing and research done for my new book. It’s about the God Complex and how it works when whistleblowers blow.

We still get the occasional bright day but it’s increasingly cold as you stroll along the beach trying to catch the last of the thin afternoon sunshine. Storms rise quickly here so watching the state of the sea is important so you’re not caught out. Sadly, the combination of this year’s prolonged drought and fierce onshore winds have taken their toll with landslips appearing everywhere. Those pesky pampas grass, which grow wild in these parts, at least try to stabilise the banks for a bit longer.

The last of the beets and radishes have been harvested and eaten, and the veggie terraces have now been left to their winter’s rest. But the carpet rose has burst into another prolific late showstopper of barbie pink flowers. It stands in great contrast to the muted autumnal colours of the fading hydrangeas.

So it’s farewell to a lovely hot summer and welcome to the autumnal football season, and Pilgrim Pete, the local team’s mascot. A total fun distraction from the serious business of writing.

An intense period of work follows to show how the ‘firm’ plotted the fate of those its members didn’t like and what happened to them all as a result. Can there be justice for the protagonists? I think it’s going to be a page-turner, but let’s wait for the reading panel’s verdict.

Come back next time for more news as the story of the plots unfolds.

Postcard from a Seaside Garden in August

/ Annie Graham / 1 Comment

After more than ten weeks of glorious sunshine and intense heat, the rains from the remnants of Storm Erin have returned with biblical force to mark the end of the summer. No complaints – the ground and the trees badly need the soaking. You can already feel the distinct autumnal chill in the morning air and the days are rapidly getting shorter. It will be the autumnal equinox in just three weeks. The visitors have gone, and the beach has now returned to its calm and peaceful state.  

Time to reflect on a few garden favourites as they begin to fade and dieback, and the big clear out begins. My choice is the new bourgy with its concentrated deep fuchsia pink colour. It’s as good as anything I’ve seen across southern Spain and Greece. The deep carmine climbing rose runs a close second and it’s been flowering all summer despite the conditions. And then there’s the vibrant Caribbean cannas which have been on constant show along with the ubiquitous and very English hydrangeas, trailing geraniums and nasturtiums. This is the look of a fine summer.

We’ve been working on the veggies in the new terraces. Best have been my beloved beetroot, along with lots of cucumbers and courgettes, spuds and tomatoes, and lettuce and carrots. The garlic has been harvested and tied into a French-style rope hanging by the front door. That will keep us going through the winter. And a squash has survived the drought and it looks promising for the harvest festival.  

With all this fun in the garden, there has been slow progress on the new Book this month. But June Schneider, the artist, is getting ready to work up the cover design and I aim to have the first part of the manuscript (20k words) ready for the test readers by mid-autumn.

Come back next time to find out what’s happening as we transition into October and return to wintertime. With the long dark nights, this is the best time for writers like me so I’m optimistic that I might have a book ready for late next spring.  

Postcard from a Seaside Garden in July

/ Annie Graham / 1 Comment

It has been very hot so it’s enough to have just enjoyed the dog days of summer reading old classics by Henry James and Scott Fitzgerald. Beachcombing in the evening is better as it is cooler and all the visitors have gone. Down in the old Tudor harbour, some of the locals have tied up their boats and gone in for tea. It’s all very peaceful here and you have space to think.  

In the veggie garden, the harvest has come a bit early as the intense heat has stimulated the growth hormones to go early. The result is a summer bounty of fresh veggies. The grapevines have recovered, and we’ve got some grapes, albeit they are on the small side; the garlic is out and drying in the sun; and the statuesque artichokes are ready for the cut and the pot.

And the remedial work is going ok despite the drought. The olive tree is sprouting from its pollarded stump; and the fuchsia is recovering well from being cut to the ground following an infection. As for the Rosa, it gets its cutback after the hips have had their time in the sun, and we have a pop of vibrant candy colours in the flowering gladdys.  

There is progress on the new Book. We have just about settled on a title. The one I wanted has been used by a famous writer, so I’ve had to switch ideas. And the brief for the cover’s artwork is now ready. You will have a preview in a few months as we gear up for the production run. Just got to get the content finished over the summer…

Come back next time to find out what’s happening as August and the last of the summer turns to herald the autumn, and the new book take shape.

Postcard from a Seaside Garden in May

/ Annie Graham / 4 Comments

Days and days of mostly warm sun and balmy evenings by the sea this month. Hardly any rain or wind resulting in much growth and colour as summer has arrived a bit early. Forget the Chelsea Flower Show and its fancy show gardens, it’s all happening here at my seaside garden. Some days, it’s too hot to do anything but stroll along the beach and take in the briny atmosphere. And we’re about to be famous as the medieval chapel on the bay’s eastern peninsula features in a new movie called ‘The Salt Path’.

May’s garden panorama is a meditation on pink. The show includes the early roses, especially my favourite, the ever-fragrant Rosa Ragusa; and the statuesque foxgloves set off by the gentle tamarix.

The self-seeded poppies have burst out and they give glorious pops of colour, but sadly, they are so short lived they need to be enjoyed in the moment as they open.

After a long winter’s rest, some intense blues have arrived. Old stalwarts like campanula and aquilegia never let you down.

And an unwanted guest has taken up residence on the roof for the next three months, a nesting gull. When the chicks pop out and start learning to walk, this site and its surrounds, including our balcony, will be a right mess.

Oh, the joys of summer with the gull chicks and their aggressive noisy parents!

Book work has been slow as there is too much to do with mucking about in the garden and down on the beach, but I’ll try to catch up through June.

Come back next time to find out what’s happening to the gull and as summer gets underway, I promise you a fabulous Rose Garden.

Postcard from a Seaside Garden in April

/ Annie Graham / 2 Comments

Springtime in the Bay has a distinctive look. It’s bright, sparkling and full of life. Shades of sky blue to muted grey-blues are set off by the white surf and the various greens on the banks as they come into life. And the canoes have left their winter store and are on the march down to the sea to join the surfers who are back despite the frigid temperature.

In the garden, the look of Spring is everywhere. It’s a real show with muddles of blue and vivid green punctuated by an abundance of early pink clematis climbing over a fence. In the veggie terrace, the giant garlic plants have sprouted to kick off the ratatouille collection.

And the annual Spring clean is underway. The (inherited) hot tub, used twice in thirteen years- Gone. The fancy garden lights, broken for more than five years- Gone. And the ugly tree stumps left by the winter’s storms- Gone. It’s so refreshing to get on with the jobs list.

It’s Eastertime and right on cue, here come the calla lilies, symbol of peace. They are this month’s star. Enjoy the look of spring.

Book work has slowed while I learn about the difference between playwriting and script writing. It’s another new world to get to grips with but book-writing will resume shortly as I have deadlines to meet. And there is some good news too: although sales of Louisa’s Lament have slowed, we have still made enough money to make another contribution to the Students’ Hardship Fund. Thanks to everyone who bought the book or borrowed a library copy as each loan is worth £1 in the pot and it all mounts up.

Come back next time to find out what’s happening as May arrives and the book’s characters, based on an amalgam of those crazy people I have known, take shape.

Postcard from a Seaside Garden in March

/ Annie Graham / 3 Comments

Spring has arrived. At last. The clocks have changed so we now get more than twelve hours of bright sunlight a day. And it shows. Our bay is twinkling in the sun but looks are deceptive as the sea is very cold at this time of year. Best leave that to the fishermen for now, although the hardy surfers and wild swimmers are already giving it a go.

However, in the garden, everything has taken off in the last few days with the cascading rosemary waterfalls, which are alive with bees, giving off their intense fragrance that fills the air as you step down to the house. The muted pink hellebores, not to be left out, have successfully muscled in to give their annual show before returning to the earth to rest until next winter.

And of those signifiers of the new season, the giant snowdrops, daffodils and primroses? They are out and about kicking off the Spring burst.

The storm damaged wooden terracing facing the sea has been replaced so we now have a sturdy rather handsome Cornish stone wall and a crunchy path of shingle that leads down to the lower garden. There, the berberises and agapanthuses are waiting until Easter time to burst forth.

My new book is progressing, but I must admit to a distraction. A playwright is looking at Louisa’s Lament for its possibilities as a play focussed on the four women at the centre of the story. I think I’m about to enter another new world of putting on a play…

Happy Easter to you all and come back next time to find out what’s happening as spring gathers pace and the book, and maybe a play, take shape.