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The woodpigeons are back. Not that they had gone away, just that I’ve noticed them a lot over the last week. I love the way they strut their plump bodies about on the lawn, peering intently into the wet grass as if looking for something they lost

Dulwich, pictured left, makes of the wild plants turning up in the rough lawn; they are pyramidal orchids, Anacamptis pyramidalis.I was entranced to find them growing here. They are usually chalk downland plants, and they take me back to my childhood

bare clipped lawn, a fair amount of old concrete paths, and naked chain-link fence. Now we have several rambling thickets of rose, ivy, clematis and vine, a 'secret' sun-lit patio beyond the pergola (I'm still extremely proud of my construction), a pond

architects who smother and pollute those remaining bits of well-drained soil with the likes of cherry laurel and plush mown lawn.The new housing developments in south-east England remind me of Anville, the uniform town that is the home of The Cat in the Hat

attacking children to get at their ice-creams, or raiding hand-held fish and chips, the main bone of contention (and it is very often a bone they’re contending), is that they rip open bin-bags and scatter the contents over the front lawn. It’s all very

observation and we had a short discussion on the significance of contrasting coloration, the myths surrounding hoarded jewels and foil sweet wrappers and the distinctions between other sorts of pie.As it fluttered down to the lawn I was just about to slip

of the lawn, then zoomed up and away. Several holly blues were skipping about over the ivy-covered fence at the weekend, all probably freshly emerged form chrysalides buried deep inside the tangled thatch.But what really caught my eye was the pas de deux dance

the washing. Whatever, suddenly there it was, hopping sedately up the lawn.Frogs always cause a hullabaloo in our garden and this one was soon surrounded by curious children, wondering where it had come from, and what they were to do about it. Leave it alone

of wildlife. The back garden is just 30 square metres of close-mown lawn and the front garden has just a few neat beds of geraniums and some small decorative cypresses. It's a holiday bungalow, so the garden is kept to a maintenance-free minimum

it. Consequently, it's just as brazen as they get. Twice, I've had to shoo it away from the guinea-pig cowering its run on the lawn. And, of course, it defecates just as much as any tailed fox.We regularly see foxes in the garden, and over the years I