The therapeutic power of gardening

I was busy at home this morning: preparing for holiday, printing photographs to take to people I met last year, sorting clothes and doing some gardening. I've been unable to do anything much this year because of Arth but managed to plant out some tubs for the patio.

The garden looks lush and vibrant at the moment. Plants come into flower and it feels like old friends returning after a few months absence.

This afternoon I visited one of my walking friends, P, who is on her second sort of chemo for cancer. She has a most beautiful garden and she is an expert gardener. She is on light duties at present but likes to do the weeding herself. We walked around her garden and enjoyed the profusion of growth and colour. This is a candelabra primula, growing in a damp area near the pond. I like the effect created by cropping close in and revealing the detail of the florets. The garden is obviously the source of much pleasure for P while she waits for her treatment to work.

Then to the pub to meet the very noisy walkers. 27 had done the long walk today and there were others, like me, who turned up for the post-walk social. It was good to see everyone, but it's very strange not to have shared in the walk too; a bit like returning to a previous job where everyone is the same but different!

More gardening this evening. Arth is objecting a lot to this little bit of exertion.

Bowlby is shouting loudly to tell me she has caught something; I'm glad to say it is just a rubber band. These have always fascinated her.