Gardens Archives - Gillian Monks

My Little Sacred Garden

On November 15, 2022

Clear skies, drying boisterous winds, temperatures above 21 degrees… it doesn’t sound much like mid-November does it? But that was what we were treated to last weekend and I grabbed the opportunity to spend Sunday afternoon out in all that glorious freedom of unexpected, unseasonal sunshine.

I spent my time working within our little stone circle, repotting our nine oak saplings which form a protective outer circle around the nine small stones within. Oak trees do not like to be disturbed or have their roots touched or damaged in any way, so I had to be very careful – or at least as careful as it is possible to be while forcibly wrestling young trees out of pots they have grown too large for and are now tight and constricting!

I sincerely hope that they are not too traumatised. The young trees have given me a huge amount of pleasure this year, from their leafy lush foliage back at Midsummer through all their autumn colours. The rustle and scent of their very presence has frequently brought a smile to my lips. Now their leaves are mostly brown and the first are beginning to drift to the ground. One caught and stuck in my hair while I was working – a large curled paper-dry leaf, surely far too large for the tiny tree it had grown on.

Once the trees had been seen to, I planted snowdrop, daffodil and tulip bulbs around the edges of the pots so that – mice permitting – we might have spring flowers in the circle when all the rest is still a little drab.

And then it struck me… I was planting a sacred garden! In my humble opinion, all growth, all that is encompassed by the natural world, all life, is sacred for it contains that element of divine energy which is life itself… life which ultimately can never be destroyed, only change form.

Once all this was done, I then decided that I needed to do something with our tiny firepit in the centre of the circle which was just an irregular rectangle cut into the grass. I enlarged it and turned it, too, into a circle, edged with old red bricks which contrast nicely with the dark grey of the slate stones. Among these bricks are some from the living room fireplace of my old childhood home in Lancashire, providing continuity of hearth as an important focal point.

Here, where we shall sit to warm ourselves at our Midwinter fire, celebrate the return of the light half of the year at the Spring Equinox, and dance for joy at Midsummer in the full light and heat of the sun amidst the blossoms, here I lay the tentative foundations by planting seeds of new life. Tended with love, there can surely be no greater act of faith and positivity than to plant a garden, a burgeoning beautiful symbol that life continues, and that, contrary to popular belief, working in harmony and understanding, together humanity and the natural world can produce something amazing… and thrive.

Autumn Abundance

By Gillian Monks

On October 11, 2022

In Uncategorized

Large wreath for my front door – not yet complete – and smaller one for a friend.

A few days ago, a couple of my dearest friends presented me with an early birthday present – a wonderful long, flat wicker basket which they found recently on Ludlow market. As soon as I clapped eyes on it, it was love at first sight! I could immediately think of numerous uses for it – lined with colourful napkins and heaped with fairy cakes for Hallowe’en or piled with crusty cobs of bread on the local market stall…

However, that was not its first assignment. Instead, the next afternoon I took it out into the garden to collect examples of harvest bounty with which to make an autumn thanksgiving wreath – lengths of green aromatic bay to form the main framework, bunches of acorn cups and beech masts, clusters of deep scarlet hawthorn berries, strands of flaming Virginia Creeper, sprays of purple and pale green hydrangea and tiny-leaved Escalonia with bright little orangey-red berries, and so on.

Me this afternoon, about to hang the finished article

With the assistance of my amazing basket I was able to gather and transport everything gently without crushing or crowding, and once I sat down to begin construction of the wreath it made my work so much easier and less fiddly.

And what a lot we have to be thankful for this autumn, for despite the drought in the summer, we have been blessed by bountiful crops and the countryside as a whole has blossomed and burgeoned into a prosperous wealth of rich rewards. As the plants droop and wither, dying back towards the land which has nurtured and supported them and will now shelter their roots or seeds through the resting time of winter, the trees are turning colour and the rich scent of decay fills the woodlands.

Complete and in place

I love to make a wreath to hang on the front or back door of my home – sometimes both. This one is destined for the front door which is sheltered by a little open-fronted porch which means that the fragile flowers will last much longer. They vary remarkably every year, depending on what is available and has done well. Yes, of course the wreath will gradually dry out or wither and some leaves and berries will fall – but in so doing it will reflect the season it was made to celebrate – a land gradually fading into shadows to dream again of the spring and rebirth… regrowth.

This is a good time to rejoice and give thanks. How might you acknowledge the turning of the season and the maturing of the autumn… the onset of winter?

May all your store cupboards be filled with tasty treasures against the shortages of winter… may you bask in the glow of the long-gone summer sun and taste again the rich flavours of the light half of the year… may the autumn treat you gently.

The Garden Of Hope

By Gillian Monks

On April 6, 2020

In Out and About

My herb garden!

As the saying goes, we live in interesting times! One – among many – blessings of having to stay at home is that I now have enough spare time to venture out into my much neglected garden. My herb garden in particular has been abandoned for at least five years, first while I helped to look after an elderly neighbour and then laterly when I became so involved in my writing.

This is certainly not ‘gardening’ for the faint hearted… more a form of jungle warfare?

Perhaps it is because of the menace of Covid-19 that I now feel the call of this sunny little corner, wedged into the right-angle of two protective boundary slate walls. I first designed and built it over twenty years ago when I was recovering from a long term illness. I was also having problems with my shoulder joints – commonly called ‘frozen shoulder’ – but discovered that, while small repetitive movements, such as peeling potatoes, would greatly exacerbate my symptoms, hauling slabs of slate around and heavy digging actually improved them.

As I slowly regained my health, my herb garden became my passion and my lifeline. I could be found out there, even in the cold and damp. If I wasn’t working in the garden itself – carrying a plastic chair about with me so that I could regularly sit down to take a rest and recover my energy – I would be sat in my little garden outside my backdoor – another link in my recovery… a story for another day – sowing seeds or potting up seedlings. When I was too weak, or the weather too bad to get out into my garden, I would lie in bed and gaze at the poster-sized picture of my garden in the sunshine which I had hung on the wall opposite me and dream and plot and plan and enter into another world altogether.

The natural world is naturally healing and for those of us lucky enough to have access to a garden, allotment or land – even a balcony or windowsills – we can use these small spaces to connect to the wider world and all the growth and new life which is bursting through the old, outworn winter dross. Perhaps there is a parallel to be found here as we leave behind our previous lifestyles and enter new, uncharted waters? Here we can find inspiration and healing, for the soil itself contains enzymes which mend frayed nerve ends and uplift our depressed emotions. Here, some of us might be lucky enough to find the way out of the conflict of life before coronavirus versus the new regime now imposed upon us, and the crisis of emotion and fear which has resulted from it. As in the case of my own neglected herb garden, none of us should have abandoned Nature and now she holds the key.

In my own time of need, I find myself reaching out for the magical little plot of land which helped me once before. There is something unique about what can be created when humanity and the natural world come together and harmonise in a symphony of mutual respect, effort and growth. It is quite different from the wild, untamed spaces, or the distorted and abused areas of mass agriculture. When humanity and nature listen to each other and connect in loving like-mindedness, then truly can we create heaven on earth.

Ah, there it is… found it! This shot taken from exactly the same place as the previous photo.

As for my own recent endeavours, I was fortunate to have help with the clearing of my faithful little plot. Under a summer-hot sun but cooled – and buffeted – by strong, warm winds, we valiantly wielded saws and secateurs as we carved our way through the over-arching brambles and cut back the prolific ivy which had encased the walls in three feet deep lush green growth. I would normally try to avoid strip clearing in this way, but in this case, there was no sensible alternative. The nine foot long brambles, multi-rooted couch grass and other so-called ‘weeds’ have loved and protected my earthy space while I was busy elsewhere, and it is time for them to hand that responsibility back to me. Now the plot is practically a blank canvas. Only my lemon verbena bush and lad’s love (both wildly leggy and misshapen) remain, along with some red veined sorrel, agrimony, a few purple polyanths, a feeble acer and a cypress tree which began life as a forgotten seedling in a six inch pot and is now a tree of over ten feet tall!

Slightly different angle – it is just possible to make out the outline of the old beds.

I assiduously sorted through my box of old seed packets last week and have sown lots of test trays and pots to see what might still be viable. I prefer to bring plants from seed – unless they really are difficult or more rare – I’m not very good at stratifying stuff in my fridge! If possible, I would prefer to ‘use up’ what I have left over from other years before I am tempted to seek new seed. I find that there is an odd freedom in not having so much choice.

As my own personal symbol of Life and Hope, I shall keep you posted as to how my reclaimed garden develops. Next on the agenda… getting to grips with digging out the roots!!!