Walled Garden

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Yesterday, at the end of the day, just as things got a little busier, I left the dinner and bed time to someone else and shut the door on the domestic. Outside, the sky was cloudless and utterly blue, the warmth of the day heavy in the air. Getting into the car, it was airless and overheated, I dropped the windows and pulled out of the street, tipping the stereo to loud and aimed for the road out of the city, feeling a little bit like a one woman Thelma and Louise.

Buildings gave way to green fields and hedgerows, the sky got bigger, Somerset looking glorious. In the Mendips, down a narrow and secluded lane my friend Annie was staying in a yurt in the grounds of a country house (as you do, but you will have to head over to her blog in a couple of days to find out more). Less than an hour from leaving home, we were sitting in a field eating cake and drinking tea, swallows darting over head.

Annie

It is a measure of friendship when, someone knows you well enough to know that you will be as thrilled as they are by a walled garden. It did not disappoint, everything of an English garden you might imagine, on a perfect July evening. Herbaceous borders and sweat peas on canes, a little bit wild, yet very loved and tended. Wrapped by tall walls, entered by an old door hidden behind shrubs, the stuff of childhood stories and grown up photography happiness.

Harptree court, walled garden

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