The garden can be a cruel mistress.

garden gloves

Pack­ing up to leave our hol­i­day week­end hosts I put down a bag and noticed Pier­re’s gar­den­ing imple­ments relax­ing on the floor near the gar­den door. Well used tools and gloves with the smell of damp soil hov­er­ing above the gen­tle pile. Gar­den­ing in the city is a won­der­ful thing; small scale and every inch rewarding/

 

Baby dune grasses

dune grasses

I walked up the road from the lit­tle monop­oly house until the sand was beneath my feet. Com­ing over the hill revealed a sur­re­al view of the baby dune grass plant­i­ngs that went as far as the eye can see.  The replen­ished dunes have been made taller to pro­tect the shore hous­es. It’s a strange look­ing sight. So inter­ven­tion­ist, so unnatural.

An inter­est­ing change to the beach below remind­ed me of the island when I was a kid. The slope was gen­tle so was the surf. At low tide one could walk out and inter­act with numer­ous tide pools. Look­ing for­ward to my next trip to see how the grass grows.