Time to live

Recently I’ve been re-reading some of my children’s books, among them Pollyanna. I’ve discovered that she’s not at all the saccharine creature I remember (probably from the film – was it Disney?) but instead drives everybody mad by inadvertently wrong-footing them all the time.

My battered 1969 edition of Pollyanna (with cover illustration by Shirley Hughes)

Having been orphaned, she goes to live with her starchy aunt. Aunt Polly outlines Pollyanna’s new schedule: tidying her bedroom, reading aloud, cookery lessons, sewing lessons, music lessons.

    ‘Oh, but Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly,’ Pollyanna cries in dismay, ‘you haven’t left me any time at all just to – to live.’

    Which brings me to the original reason for this blog post – an explanation of my profile picture, ‘Summer girl daydreaming’ by Margaret W Tarrant.

'Summer girl daydreaming' by Margaret W Tarrant

As I’ve explained before, this picture was given to me by my aunt, Annabelle, when I was four (and she fourteen). I’ve always treasured it, partly because it was such a grown-up present to receive and partly because it reminds me how important it is to make time for doing nothing.

    I mentioned the picture to Annabelle recently and she dismissed it as sentimental. I’m sure it is, but I still need it.
    I'm more Aunt Polly than Pollyanna, which is probably why I found the book so funny this time round.

    

Pruning and digging out by the root

We spend Friday and Saturday taming the edges of the garden. This is necessary because some of the hedges are now so tall we’ve lost our view, because branches are upsetting our phone and broadband lines, because fruit trees are losing sun, and because we’re losing lawn space as hedges creep forwards. It's not the right time of year for such work but we are careful, looking out for nests and avoiding anything with fruit or nuts so as not to deplete the birds’ foodstore

Our phone and broadband lines disappearing into a tangle of branches

Even though nothing in our house runs on wood, I persuade Frog to saw up larger chunks and I add them to my woodstore under the shed. I like to be prepared for the collapse of civilisation.

My woodstore under the shed

The dog passes the time barking down rabbit-holes through the chicken wire put across the hedge by Frog in order to stop her barking down rabbit-holes (and then excavating them and then coming inside covered in mud).

The dog, frustrated in her attempts to get at the rabbits

 

Frog does the destructive work – chainsawing and lopping – and I drag things to the bonfire. It is soothing, mindless activity. We make a good team. The sun shines. I am happy.

Frog at his favourite sort of gardening - the destructive sort

I started the weekend sad. Summer is drawing to an end. My lovely niece left Exeter last week after three years at the university. The novel, which is semi-autobiographical, is forcing me to relive some of the worst times of my life.

I’m trying to dig those times out by the root and leave them to die in the sun. They can’t be tamed. Pruning is not enough. But on Saturday night – bone weary, my hair stinking of smoke – I dream for the first time ever of a way through.

Welcome

Welcome to my first follower from India, Mahesh Acharya. You can meet him at his blog 'Melting Pot of Ideas'. 

Devon photographer



Brindle, photographed by Sam Baker
www.sambakerphotography.co.uk


You may remember a post of mine about the life and death of Brindle, one of our dogs. At the end of this I included a photograph of Brindle taken (in about 1997) by Sam Baker, a friend who was just out of art college. Sam is now a professional photographer, specialising in 'photographs with personality'.

She still lives in Devon and still does animal portraits. In addition she now photographs events - including sports, parties and artistic performance.

She has a new website www.sambakerphotography.co.uk . Do check her out.

Holiday snaps

We went to a Greek island but you'll have to work out for yourself which one as we don't want everybody going there.

I remember when I first saw the Mediterranean - in my teens. I just couldn't believe its colour. I still can't.

It is actually a long long way down to the sea from here and the cliff on the right is a geological fault line. An earthquake in (I think) 2007 sent tons of rock down to the sea to form a new beach. On the left you can just see a swimming pool. This belongs to a new complex of villas. Would you want to stay in a villa on a geological fault line in an earthquake zone? No, neither would I. A path winds round the cliff face. Needless to say, we didn't take it. I had to sit down after taking this picture, I felt so dizzy.

Most of the island is covered with trees, either woods

or olive groves

often terraced.



Ancient footpaths traverse the island

and where there are steps these are shallow so that donkeys can use them (not that anyone on the island uses donkeys any more).

These footpaths have been mapped by an Englishman (www.iankbleasdale.co.uk ) over 15 years and 26 visits but sadly many of them are now becoming overgrown or blocked with new villas. Frog and I took secateurs so that we could do a bit of clearing while we explored. Ian (as we call him) suggests a pruning saw as well, but we thought this was going a bit far.

While new villas spring up all over the place, old houses are left to fall into ruins.

I wonder why.

Spring is the time for wildflowers in Greece but we still saw quite a few.

Wild carrot

Wild hollyhock

Chaste tree



Fragrant clematis

And, as well as walking, we did lots of swimming (in warm transparent sea), sunbathing, eating in tavernas and lazing around on our shady terrace. But that probably doesn't make for very interesting pictures.