Skip to main content

The Escaped Garden

The jungle
Our house sits some 600 feet above sea level in a wooded valley overlooking Cardigan Bay. The garden runs to about a quarter of an acre and curves round the house on three sides with a traditional lawn/veg patch and seating area at the back of the house, a sloping wooded area at the side and shrubs and lawn to the front. Our long-term plans for it are still thoughts in progress - for the first year we mainly watched to see what grew - but the combination of work deadlines and last year’s non-stop rain mean that everything in has well and truly escaped, so this weekend we took action to reclaim the sea view.

The intermediate zone
 The hacking back's fine... but what do you do with all the cuttings?

Preparing to shred...

One branch down

One tree down
We now know that every hour of hacking through the undergrowth creates two to three hours of shredding and log sawing.  But the end result's worth it...
Over the hedge


Especially at sunset...
From the front gate.

Comments

Frances said…
Oh Chris...what a magnificent view you have reclaimed!

I imagine that you and Tom will now be enjoying many sunsets, as the evenings lengthen. Lots of inspiration for paintings! The colors!

Bravo on all the chopping and shredding. xo
Chris Stovell said…
Thank you, Frances - there's an awful lot more to do, but it's a start! x
Jane Lovering said…
That is such a fabulous view, it must have made the hard work worth it! Here we stack and all the cuttings and choppings and then burn them in the winter (along with furniture, pallets, cardboard and anything else we can get - it's grim Up North). Congratulations on your reclaimed sea view!
Chris Stovell said…
Us too, Jane - that oil tank's a hungry, expensive beast to feed! And thank you!
mountainear said…
Wow! That view is worth the effort...but I do share a dislike of the 'getting-rid-of' process. And anybody who says 'don't let it get out of hand' is preaching an impossible counsel of perfection.
Cait O'Connor said…
Amazing view and photo Chris. Worth every ounce of effort.
Chris Stovell said…
I'm so glad you said that, Mountainear! It gets away in no time - last summer's rain created havoc!

Cait, thank you - we do love living by the sea, even on days like yesterday when we were shrouded in sea mist all day!
Flowerpot said…
Wow what a view Chris - worth all that hard work!
Pondside said…
How beautiful! That's a view to warm your heart through the year.
I've been wrestling with blackberry vines and giant thistles. No great view to show for all the work, but the place sure looks much tidier.
Chris Stovell said…
Lots more to do, Sue - but it was good to reclaim that view!

Pondside - we've got some very daunting brambles with less of a reward to wrestle with too!
Diana Studer said…
We waged that battle to see the sea when we lived at Camps Bay. Now it is the line of mountains I want to keep free, and even our pond. But the chipper is waiting.

Popular posts from this blog

Happy Endings, New Beginnings

Blended families come with conflicting loyalties and at Christmas time nearly everyone has somewhere else they feel they ought to be. Throw partners into the equation and it gets even more complicated. Since Tom and I aren’t especially hung up about Christmas we’re happy to let our children go with the strongest flow, but I have to say it was a great delight to have the girls and their partners staying with us this year. When such moments are few and far between they become very precious. My stepsons weren’t far from our thoughts either, not least because we had the very happy news on Christmas Day that my elder stepson and his girlfriend had become engaged. Congratulations Dan and Gill, here’s wishing you every happiness together. Tom and I end a year that has seen the fruition of many years work, both of us crossing important thresholds within weeks of each other. I’m really looking forwards to seeing Turning the Tide published next year and it’s been so satisfying, after al

Reconnecting

I hadn't realised it until now , but it’s probably no coincidence that my last post was about our trip to Norwich, a city I’ve loved since studying at UEA. I wrote, then, that coming home was a hard landing, a feeling that took me completely by surprise as it’s been such a privilege to live in this beautiful, remote spot on the very edge of the west Wales coast. A trip to Skye at the end of October - Tom’s choice - with Ma, was a truly lovely holiday. The weather was kind, the colours of those breathtaking seascapes will stay with me, as will all the happy memories we made that week. And, because our small cottage had been so beautifully modernised and worked so well for the three of us, it was easy to imagine what it might be like to live somewhere different. If travel doesn’t broaden the mind, it certainly brings a new perspective. By the end of the year, Tom and I had decided that it was time for a change, time to move closer to a town (we are neither of us, as they say, getting

Fly Free, Dottie Do

‘How many days to my birthday?’ Ma asks. I do a quick calculation. ‘Eighteen,’ I reply. ‘Eighteen days until your ninetieth birthday.’ Ma pulls a face and shakes her head. Every sentence is hard work for her now, when each breath is a struggle. ‘You’ll have to write a book about this, you know,’ she says, with one of her quick, mischievous smiles. ‘“Carry On Dying”. Make ‘em laugh, make ‘em cry.’ The smile fades. ‘Who knew,’ she adds wearily, ‘that dying would be such a palaver?’  It’s only eleven days since Ma was diagnosed with a high-grade, aggressive lymphoma, four days since she was overwhelmed with pain and breathing difficulties and was admitted as an emergency to hospital. Until a few weeks ago, she lived completely independently; shopping, cooking, cleaning and tending her much-loved garden. The deterioration in her health is shockingly rapid. The eight days preceding her death are a living hell, a constant battle with the ward staff to get Ma the pain relief she’s been presc