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Happym, thank you. Has the Prime Minister really belittled our intelligence? I hadn't heard.


He said it did not need much academic ability or something similar to be a horticultualist,  Alan Titchmarsh took it up in high dudgeon and argued the case well in several papers and magazines.  The fact that many schools are now having gardening clubs and bringing their children to the Botanic Garden makes me think teachers do not agree with him.  The children who visit the Bristol Botanic Garden cannot help get a large dose of science (evolutionary dell and pollinarion garden, medicinal plants, useful plants like vanilla for ice-cream, chocolate, tea and coffee and bananas, rare and native local plants to make their walks round Bristol more interesting.Plants that grow in Medieterranean climates in case global warming changes our weather that way in the future).  I feel safer knowing children can be educated in such things as the threat of much dearer food for my grandchildren is very real.  I was horrified by what the Prime Minister said.  He has children too.


Also, HappyM, when the hunter gatherers of the Middle East started farming, they would have started off in a small way, having realised that seeds produced plants, they would probably have cultivated areas not unlike a modern allotment or veg garden; not huge fields waving with wheat like a modern farm. So it could be argued that being able to grow food instead of having to hunt it, liberated humans to start creating artifacts; civilisation, the start of modern culture, and all because a few people started 'gardening'.


I hope the Prime Minister reads that.  Gardening came a long time before politics.  The Bible sites the Garden of Eden as where human life first began.  You cannot get more recommendation than that.  Hee is another of my poems with a gardening theme.


Out in the Cold.


As you would for a rare mountain plant,

You put me in the Alpine House;

Studied my history, my habitat,

My preferences for food and drink.


Seeing that I was thriving,

You moved me to the rock garden 

Of marriage.

There I put down roots

And did what alpines love to do,

Blossomed spectacularly,

And bred seven new rarities for you.


Now you are gone,

I struggle in the neglected garden

Of widowhood.

Longing to be back in the Alpine House.

Yet adapted enough 

To survive on the mountain.

Eddie J

You have reminded me that I came across a poem tucked away at the back of draw a few weeks ago, I certainly don't remember writing it., and luckily for you it has nothing to do with gardening, and is about a nasty spider. 

I've also written a couple of others, but again they don't fit the gardening theme.


I have just moved one of my rustic pieces to a different part of the garden. I like to move them around just to keep an interest.

Something that I have always known but often ignored, is trusting your own instincts and go with them, rather than listening to others. The piece below is and example of just that. I wanted to carve it into a kind of sea horse, but listened to others telling me to make it into a seat/bench. I've never really liked it as a seat although it is actually quite comfortable, and I have now decided to scrap the seat idea and go with my own of making it into a prehistoric sea horse.

Here is a little fun garden art.






That is such a beautiful poem,sad and poignant.

This is a poem I wrote after the death of my mother-in-law Lily aged 104 last year.She loved gardens,and I miss her greatly. 

                    The sadness of the garden


It,s quiet in the garden,

the birds no longer sing,

they stand in small bedraggled groups,

no longer on the wing.

The bees no longer have a buzz,

as they move from flower to flower,

they toil away in silence,

for hour after hour.

The trees have lost their whisper,

as they sway from side to side,

and in their branches squirrels sit,

not out to play,just hide.

The sun once bright and very warm,

up in a bright blue sky,

decides to disappear behind,

a small cloud passing by.

The cloud once white becomes dark grey,

and tears of rain then pour,

the garden is a sadder place,

the Lily is no more.




And she was 104 and older probably than everything in the garden.  Gilly L that has the tears running down my cheeks .  Eddie, I love the sqirrels and all your imaginative finds!


Thanks,happymarion,she was a remarkable lady.

Eddie, love that artwork.  The first one....looks,a bit like something's happened to an unwanted visitor!

Eddie J
Verdun wrote (see)

Eddie, love that artwork.  The first one....looks,a bit like something's happened to an unwanted visitor!

My nasty little garden warrior takes care of the rest.  Although he is hidden away behind the shed, as he is not the most garden friendly of pieces, so fits in well where no one should be going.



This little fella a bit more garden friendly.





The first,'s you isn't it Eddie?


HappyMarion and GillyL, very wonderful poems, thank you both so much for posting them.


Marion and Gilly -

No comment needed 

Eddie -the squirrels and the mouse are terrififc!

Is the one with the spear Verd?


He does,nt look very well


I'll fight you for that spear Gilly - it would be better than a hosepipe for warding off the intruders 


Eddie J

With all the talk about Verd, I'd forgotten all about this one that is hidden away in a bush.

And here is another hidden away one.



I'd always imagined Verdun looks like the bottom photo

Eddie....they are absolute funny


I.d be more worried trying to take the spear off of Verd... Fairygirl,with that look on his face ,and what looks like blood on the end.

I do fancy it for warding off intruders though