writing

Little black book Grace Alexander Little black book Grace Alexander

Cornish gardens

My lovely,

If you ever want to witness the rate of growth in a garden, leave it for a week in June. We have been away, camping in Cornwall. For complicated reasons, we returned in the middle of the night and it was as if the kitchen garden had doubled in size. In the clear night, with a sky studded with stars, we shuttle bags and sleepy dogs along the path. I am certain that when we left, it was a sensible sort of width. On our return, a scant week later, we can barely fit down it, and we are painted from mid-thigh to toes with raindrops by flopping Lady’s Mantles and sanguisorba.

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