Troublesome bed last summer Last week, despite the temperature, I piled on my jumpers and ventured outside to clear away more winter debris. Once I raked away dead leaves I could see the new shoots thrusting up from the soil and felt instantly better. At this time of year it is mostly 'housework' - it is rather like tidying up the morning after a heavy party but without the beer cans. I managed to surface tidy every bed, and lightly forked a few. Then the rain came back and after being chased out of the greenhouse by a monstrous spider, I was housebound again. Yesterday, it was sunny for a while so I went out again and today although the sun didn't put in an appearance, it wasn't cold. I persuaded my old fella to take a short break from the bathroom he is installing and replace the greenhouse glazing that was blown out over the course of the winter - now, I am worrying it will get windy and smash it all over again! I've cut back the fuchsias and tucked them...

A month of so ago my old fella and I were sitting on our swinging hammock, sipping coffee, listening to the birds, enjoying the sunshine and the feeling that all the major tasks we'd set ourselves for summer were over. I'd begun to toy with the idea of days out, walks on the beach, leisurely picnics ... "I've had an idea," he says, jerking me from my dreaming. "I'm going to build you a better greenhouse." "O - kaaaay," I said, interest piqued. old teeny tiny greenhouse interior (see massive phormium behind) When we moved I said I wouldn't need a greenhouse with such a comparitively small garden but that had quickly proved false and we soon realised we couldn't do without one. Luckily enough, early last year we purchased a small second hand one from a local swap shop. It was a snip at £20 and we only had to buy a few bits of glass to complete the glazing. I was thrilled with it but by spring it was bursting at the seam...

The night before It was late June, we'd had weeks of lovely mild weather, long afternoons and evenings of tender care had produced a joyful, tranquil effect.  I could barely tear myself away to go to bed. That night, smug and happy with my garden. I lay awake thinking of it, picturing it in my mind. Circling the pristine lawn, the roses were in full bloom, the foliage of the trees lush and green, diffusing the sunshine; the ornamental grasses swaying in the slight breeze, the giant daisies standing proud, the fuschias dancing in the late evening light.  Miss Bateman (clematis) unknown Rose and Hardy Geranium The next morning I stood, coffee in hand, in dismay as I watched it lashed by rain brought in on a ferocious north westerly wind. The trees dashed their arms like mad men, their leaves falling like confetti; the roses dripping wet, their petals swept away to stick fast to the patio windows. I could not bear to watch but I could not look away. battered cou...

Add caption As well as writing my next book, Book three of The Beaufort Chronicles: The King's Mother, I've been busy in the garden. It is only our second summer here at Aberporth so we are only just beginning to discover how we will use the garden and prioritising what needs doing first. Last year, it was a case of clearing years of neglect and getting a shed up for John to fill with the useless junk he loves to accumulate. This year we decided our first major job would be the patio as discussed in the last post. This served to make all the rest of the ancient hard landscaping look rather shabby so this week we got the seating area beneath the trees gravelled, and laid the first part of the path in slabs matching the patio. There was a sort of existing patio beneath the trees but it had been badly laid many years ago using chunks of Welsh slate held together with ugly concrete. As the trees grew the roots had pushed up the slate making it hazardous and ugly, there was...