Letters to garden makers

Dear Monty, I have just finished reading Italian Shoes by Henning Mankell, a Christmas gift from my psychotherapist sister-in-law, and it has unleashed a flood of thoughts, appropriate to read whilst watching the deluge continue outside. In this novel Mankell explores what it is to age, how the process of ageing changes the way we see ourselves and our place in the world in regard to human relationships. ' Life is a flimsy branch over an abyss' - Mankell I read my copy of the bible every day, chapter by chapter, it challenges me, thrills me, horrifies me. I realise that this battered, small, pocket-sized bible; read at train stations on hills and in art galleries is the personal possession that means the most to me, it will probably never belong to anyone else, it will fall apart with me.  Waldemar Januszczak recently extolled the wonky cross and standing stones of the northern Christian tribes - each tribe has its version of Christ and Christianity - the same

Dear Monty, Like you we are currently experiencing flooding, not on the same scale, as we are high above the flood plain of the Tawe, but it requires sandbags to stop the burst brook coming through the front door of the old band room. Water forms so much of our landscape, it carves and cuts through rock and soil, pouring toward the sea, it creates the character of this land. I watch and wait. The Darren mountain forms a dark shadow opposite us, and is a reminder that we are on the edge of wilderness. Most towns border with other settlements, this one links with others in a sinuous line following the river valley with smaller and smaller communities the further North you go, eventually melting into the Brecon Beacons. Here in Ystalyfera however, it is hard edged - a cut and bruised landscape of human struggle and industrial hunger. The land beyond the coal and the limestone in contrast is hedged and farmed. Post industrial landscapes have a haunting quality t

Dear Monty, 11/12/12  I read an article published in the States by someone called Jed Diamond. It was shared on Twitter by Philippa Perry  www.curtisbrown.co.uk/philippa-perry/  . The argument put forward is that mental illness is a myth - and that the whole earth is sick and needs fixing : 'The buildings are sick, the banking system's sick, the schools the streets - the sickness is out there. ' I have seen this insidious change for myself in the last 4 decades, but the process of movement toward global insanity continues at a faster pace. Belief, love, commitment, patience, rest are all being eroded by  selfishness, stress, anxiety and an inability to rest, to take stock, to think about this earth, this lung, the thing that feeds and clothes us. The disconnect is palpable - the anxiety, stress and anger is palpable. When we become disconnected from our roots we fail to thrive. Our roots are not connected to our genius - but to the genius of the organism of the liv

Dear Monty, 'Do two walk together unless they have agreed to do so ?' I realise that there are consequences to all our actions, and that our place on this earth is fragile, we are not here forever. There is something being said by the mountains, I heard a voice speak. 'He who forms the mountains creates the wind and reveals his thoughts to man' I had a thoroughly enjoyable walk in the hills above Abergavenny with Charles Hawes Charles@veddw.com . Walking away from the rush of roads, having time to see and hear what nature is, is just so refreshing for the soul. I believe we are meant to be connected to this earth, yet most of our lives today seem to be more and more distanced from it.  Life has become dulled by our pursuit of wealth. It seems that the economy and economic theory is to be pursued above all else for the supposed 'good' of us all. Amos, a shepherd who started to hear the voice in the wind said this about how life starts to

Dear Monty, Three musings (or unedited drivel) 26/11/12 How can the mechanical sound of a car engine in the distance bring a sense of comfort ? Yet that sound did just that a few moments ago. Perhaps it unlocks a memory from the past, a good memory of belonging and safety within a loving family. Perhaps it is linked to my childhood spent on another hill in another house. The little end of terrace house on the hill above the sea in Swansea with its view over to the docks and the steelworks in one direction, and the curve of Swansea Bay to the Mumbles in the other. Forgive the old pastel drawings, they serve to remind me of my roots. There is a positive thing about growing older that gets lost - 'older and wiser' is the saying. Maybe it isn't wisdom but a distillation of experience and knowledge. The small things take on greater significance, like memories evoked by sounds. Life becomes enhanced by the brevity of it - becomes more beautiful. 28/11/12 I have