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This describes how we found our present garden, it had suffered decades of neglect.

Roots of Restoration

Water_witch-2by Abigael20 Oct 2013

It had been a struggle to survive,
in the end the natives won. The garden
was impenetrable; a mesh of brambles
in mortal combat with aged shrubs.
Contours of old flower beds were
covered in long grass. A drunken

pergola teetered over the flagstones
buried under weeds, with no space to fall
the pergola stood tall. The rear garden gate
swung on a single hinge and creaked
in the prevailing wind. Yellow water iris

and a lily clung tenaciously to life in a leaky
pond which sprouted a mix of moss grass
and brambles, these lay upon on a thick mat
of old roots. A water boatman and a newt
paddled about on the stagnant surface.

The rustic garden seat had succumbed
to rampant woodworm and decay, in front
of a dilapidated shed where ancient spades,
old scythes and rakes had rusted away.

We didn't find the garden well until
we felled the overgrowth. The supports
for the winch had toppled into the well,
a bucket lay where it fell, in a tangle
of cable next to an old rusted handle.

We opened up the well, thirty feet down,
we glimpsed a prehistoric scene. Wild
creatures frolic in the cool clear water.
A family of newts, blink in the sunlight,
this garden is their nursery and home.

Written on a stone tablet found in the garden

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God's heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.
Dorothy Gurney 1858 - 1952