Terra Legra

 I've always been a bit of a geek when it comes to learning. I was the child at primary school who pointed out teachers' incorrect spellings, or who had the stock phrase "I've finished all the work, what else can I do?" - this dimmed at secondary school a little. It was less cool to be academic, even at my high-pressured all-girls-grammar. There was fierce competition to be top of the class there, but in English, French, Home Ec and Drama I revelled in A grades. At sixth form, I bunked off a LOT because I'd discovered the pub. However, I still made it my mission to get As for my English A Levels, and I also thrived studying Media Studies, and somehow bagged a 100% mark for my Media Studies A Level exams. All while existing on daytime rounds of pints on sticky tables scattered with lighters and packets of Marlboro Lights. I went to university and found it extremely challenging, but I came out with a 2:1 and a mortal fear of shared living.  It's been a while...

Much of the modern world is linear. We can't escape it, it seems inevitable, but a place where we can be cyclical and take comfort in that is in the garden.  Take, for example, the fact that it is autumn, going on winter. As I write, it's 5pm and it's fully dark outside. I've got taper candles flickering on the dining table, a bottle of red open and breathing ready for dinner (sausage stew), and the boiler is clicking on to warm me for the evening. But I'm already thinking of spring. With gardens, you can time-travel to two seasons away, setting things up for future you to enjoy. Life in the garden is cyclical, and we know that another trip around the sun means the same patterns. Sowing, planting, growing, harvesting - it's the ultimate comfort.  Bulbs are great for this. It's November, and planting bulbs feels like the most hopeful thing you can do while hollow, garish Christmas ads play on the tv encouraging us to buy new crap to replace the perfectly func...

My garden is a place of solitude. When we first moved in three and a half years ago, it was overshadowed by two unwell sycamores and an almost-dead apple tree. These trees took over the lower half of the space like a canopy, and as a result the grass was boggy, unkempt and groaning with weeds.  The patio, which took up the other half of the garden, was uninspiring, and a wishing-well style circular brick bed sat in the middle of it all, full of hebes that had also seen better days. A brick bed housed a camellia, and a plum tree, with more hebes in between. The previous owner clearly had a serious thing for hebes. Over the next two years, we had the trees removed (we're still flanked by lovely, healthy trees either side, including a majestic eucalyptus that hushes and shushes the most beautiful sound). We also had the patio dup up, the grass removed, and opted for beach pebbles. (The look is very much inspired by Derek Jarman's Dungeness garden). We also put in a square of decki...