We just moved house (last week infact) and I’ve started work on bringing the garden back to life. Our new house is pretty cool, bigger, better, quieter, now featuring a garage – the usual. But it was the garden that really sold it to me. The minute I stepped foot into the garden I knew the house had to be ours.
One of my favourite books when I was growing up (okay, one of my favourite books now) is The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. It’s not the story that I love, which is good, it’s not the characters in the book either, even though the old gardener is a dude – it’s the part where they find the garden and start working on making it beautiful again. The bit where they find rose bushes underneath years of weeds and scrape away the leaves to reveal tiny flowers. It’s the best!
So when I saw this overgrown walled garden, with its cherry tree being choked by nettles, the plum trees struggling under the weight of an overgrown tree and wild strawberries growing in the cracks between the paving stones I knew that I had to rescue it. So surely if I’m Mary Lennox then that means that the Undergardener is Dickon, no?