Now that midwinter delivered a little rain and a lot of cold and short days, I often return to the late Mirabel Osler when aching bones demand rest by a warm hearth.Then,a drift into the cheerful musings of a generous observer is a beautiful thing.
When seeking diversion more than advice,I find the English gardener and writer to do be both a delight and a consolation .When all else is quiet and the privacy she refers to as an elusive commodity allows for an uninterrupted daylight hour it is often a well thumbed. A Garden which finds its the Eye of the Garden which finds its way to the fireside table.Although she gardened in a different hemisphere with different plants.
her enthusiasm for gardening as a way of life,her veracity alongside her often idiosyncratic views always make me smile.
A lots of pleasure in the genre of literature is not only for private garden owners.There are particularly in Melbourne.
It is more to write about in here but I has my time was stopping with in here.but I like very much to more reading myself about Gwen Ford.