This isn't a story of something I know nothing about my friend, nor is it a tale of wonders half imagined in some fantasy land. It is instead a true tale, and it contains enough wonder to make it worth reading. It is a tale of escape, of beauty and intrigue and of a cat who has my heart. This is a tale of my home in Sussex, situated near the sea and the countryside. Where castles in towns close by are now ruins, not so far from the banks of the river where Virginia Woolf once chose to end her own life by drowning.
I live in a magical place, not some Narnia that I must access through my wardrobe, or a Hogwarts where they send me off to learn my own power. No indeed, our homes have power in themselves, to elevate our feelings and bring us joy and peace.

When I first came here I was very young. I moved from the centre of town and a large two bedroom flat, to a cosy little bungalow with a large garden. At the time it had over a hundred rose bushes, and I viewed it in Summer when they were in full bloom. The previous owner had died and it was empty. I half expected to see the police tape of their silhouette inside on the floor. It was empty and smaller than my last place, but it felt like a home should. You get that feeling of rightness, like it was meant to be. But it was the outside that sold it to me, as well as the great location. Even now I recall chatting to the Estate Agent whilst they fed off the plums in the small orchard at the bottom of the garden. "At last," I thought, "Althea (my tiny black and white cat) will be able to have trees to climb and space to run. I bought it then and there.

I moved all I had in one van. I didn't need much. I didn't have much. What is important is that you are happy and safe, and that you feel good in a home you chose. The rest, that comes later as you build on the love you have for the place. By the end of that day I was already mowing the front lawn. I live in a cul-de-sac. Nobody would pass through or come to park here, not unless they lived in one of the eight homes it was comprised of. It was a hot sunny day, so I thought it odd when an ancient lady in a heavy fur coat and flipflops came ever so slowly across the way to come speak to me. It took her a very long time, and I didn't dare guess her age. Old folk can be like trees, it's best to assume they've seen a lot of life, and unless you open them up to count the rings of good times and bad they've endured, just believe they deserve to be cut some slack.

I wasn't sure what revelations would unfold. But as she arrived I smiled, she smiled; and there was a bond shared instantly. "Jeez," I was thinking, "she must be baking in that coat."
Then came a raspy voice from this hunched over old lady, barely standing five foot tall and reminding me of the Munchkins in the Wizard of Oz. And what were her opening words of wisdom to this young upstart who'd invaded their sanctum?
"Got enough booze?"
I smiled even wider. I liked her already. She continued with,
"We knew you'd be okay as soon as we saw you instantly mowing the front lawn. We're all old-fogies here, but it's nice to meet you."

They say you should not let a cat out without putting butter on their paws. My cat wasn't ever going to let me do that. I once tried to put a flea collar on her and she went feral until I took it off. I had hoped she'd like it. It was mainly flat and boring, grassed and plain borders with nothing of note save for the roses. At one end was the orchard, and at the back of that a train track. They never bothered me, because you didn't really see them in the Summer as the trees blocked the view. Also, it's amazing how you soon get used to the noise, so that eventually it's unnoticeable. It had a wire fence at that end, so I knew Althea couldn't jump it or venture onto the train tracks unwittingly. As I stood that end, a fox the other side meandered u bothered down the gully of the embankment. It stopped to view these two intruders, and we both looked on, me with wonder and my cat with disdain. From the start she knew this was her new territory, and though small, she had the heart of a lioness.

The apple trees were old but well set back from the house. There were plums and cherries, pears and some fruits I didn't recognise. Only a dozen or more mature trees but laden with fruit and creating pleasant shade and shelter in the hot Summer days. Althea would love to play her favourite game of Hide and Seek here. It consisted of one of us would go hide, wait, then the other would come find us. Believe it or not she was as adept at going to hide as she was at seeking. She'd play it for hours, but often would cheat by climbing the branches of those trees to remain invisible.

She never chased birds, I think the challenge was beneath her. Instead she'd sit on the window ledge and growl at the seagulls who were easily bigger than her by far. The only thing I ever remember her catching was a baby rabbit. She was carrying it like she would a kitten by the scruff of its neck. When I saw her she ran off to go hide with her new play toy, me behind clapping my hands like a loon. The shared sign that she was doing something bad, and indeed she dropped it. It bounded off in the direction of the fields not so far away further down the train line. I recently saw another rabbit on my front driveway, and it reminded me of that moment. I guess it brought back such happy memories, which is why I'm sharing them with you now.

I loved the garden so much. I had grown up with loving parents and two sisters, but had learned what it was to have little. We didn't have a fridge even, we'd put the milk in a washing up bowl of cold water in the Summer. I had lived up North, and being down South I was always so happy to live near the sea. Even now I find such joy in being close to the coast. In my garden there were always songbirds. The chorus would last all day, and in the evenings as dusk descended the hedgehogs would come out foraging for food. I've seen grass snakes and silver or bronze slow worms, newts and lizards. All sunning themselves and enjoying our shared piece of God's Earth. I was always the caretaker, never the owner. The garden isn't overlooked by neighbours. On the one side it could be there was a high fence and the lady had left it to go wild her side. Foxes lived under her old shed, and one year the two cubs would often come to play in the orchard and practice their hunting skills, much to Althea's disapproval.

I have always wanted a big garden. Our homes never had much of a one, and I liked being creative. I took that grassed plot and put in four ponds. I've always felt it's not a pond unless it's big enough that you can't jump over it! In their infancy, before the plants had grown up, wild ducks would come land on it. They are cute to look at, but if you've ever seen them in mating season you will know their exploits can be quite brutal. I wasn't too worried when one year they stopped returning, same for the crane that visited. I've had sparrowhawks hunting in the garden and once, a huge bird of prey landed near my bedroom on the fence. I was inside less than three feet away. It was so majestic, sitting there as if it owned the place. I guessed it had got loose from the centre nearby, where they have owls and falcons and such.

I have made statues and art for the garden. I love reusing and recycling materials to give them a second life. At one point I made huge mosaics from all my smashed up crockery and hung them on the garage wall. Subjected to the elements nothing survives for many years, but I never mind, that's just how life is. If it gives pleasure, if it cost nothing and gave joy making it, then once it's usefulness is over then something new will come to replace it. Such has been the way with my garden.

Some plants died, and new ones took their place. I added height with flowering bushes and trees, with colours for every season. Even Winter can have displays of bright orange and red berries, pink or white heathers and all manner of evergreen leaves every shade of yellow or green. There is no right or wrong for a garden, you create your own picture. But always remember Nature, and as you take joy always remember to give it too. Plant bee friendly, and introduce berry bushes for the birds or flowers for the butterflies and insects. Appreciate all sentient life, and show your flora and fauna love and attention. It's all just art, and a joy to behold.

And now my friends, twenty five years later I'm still here, still loving my home and garden. I'm still creating new pleasures, introducing new ideas and upcycling, re-using and making a home I can enjoy. Last night there was the most powerful lightning storm I've ever seen. All thunder and lightning and virtually no rain, that went on for twenty minutes. When I woke, I had breakfast down the end of the garden by the holly tree next to which Althea is buried. She too is a transient soul sharing this spot with me. She's moved on now, but I like to think her spirit still visits me to come play Hide n Seek in these branches, amidst the climbing roses and the flowering honeysuckle.

"Well, did you see that storm last night? I knew you'd be scared, so I've come to play."
The birds chatter and the clouds roll by. The crisp breeze might carry my voice to her, I hope so. We're never too distant that we can't be heard. Even God hears with a keen ear, so why not our loved ones too? No distance is ever too great it can't be traversed, and no part of any land belongs wholly to one being. My garden is ours, I share it and would willingly do so with you my friends.
"I miss you," I say to the empty air, and I feel a stirring in my heart. I guess I too will eventually be passing through some day, and I hope whoever owns my home then will have just such a sense of joy from it. In this life, you get back what you put in. So if you have a home, or your own garden, ensure you know to share. Create not just for yourself but for all Nature, and never give up on making it beautiful; not only to the eye but to the heart too.



© .Garry Saunders

PHOTO TAKEN TODAY FROM MY GARDEN 🐈‍⬛