‘Wall of Death!’ the taxi driver sounds surprised – incredulous might be a better word – but also intrigued and wanting to know more.
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Living and learning with swans
Do swans grieve? Do they mourn for a lost mate or sibling? I’m watching a lonely young cygnet standing on the bank of the pond, head lowered, wary and watchful, unmoved by the rain. Relentless rain. It’s a mournful scene but is that just my human emotion?
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He’s at it again. That Jack Frost has turned another cold night into a glittery masterpiece on the bedroom window.
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A subtle sunrise for the solstice. Just a pink stain dawning on the eastern horizon – over there between the Scots pine and the Noble fir around 8.25 this morning.
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The ugly dark hulk has a daunting bulk. A grim legacy of the Nazi occupation. The old submarine base still occupies the Bacalan district of Bordeaux. So many tons of concrete – 600,000 cubic metres of them – would be difficult to remove.
But walk round it and there’s a surprising softening in an imaginative reclaiming of wasteland. Winding borders of flowers – blue, pink, purple, white – and waving grasses invite butterflies, bees and birds to feed and the wildlife happily obliges. Why not? Plant it right and they will come.
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Pond Cottage nature notes – making a happy mess.
Too hot to do the outside work I had planned. I stay indoors with windows open to invite a cooling breeze while I tweak at words for next year’s Pond Cottage entry in Scotland’s Gardens Scheme 2026 Yellow Book. Is it right?
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“Just bees, and things and flowers”
Like a lot of formerly news-hungry journalists these days I can hardly bear to open the many journals I subscribe to. But earlier this year I read the FT’s Life of a Song. And Roy Ayers Sunshine blew Trump thunderstorms away.
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The Resilience of Swans: Parenting Lessons from Pond Cottage
On another wet and windy day we return to Pond Cottage after a night away, pausing by the gate to check the postbox. And there’s a surprise package, a gift that brightens the gloom: a delightful sketch of our Mother Swan by the talented artist Rowena Millard.
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Mud pies and memories of freedom
Open the door and there’s a big green velvet curtain to keep the living room warm, in granny’s bedroom a pretty dressing table set decorated with pink – maybe purple? – flowers. A potty tucked discreetly under the bed.
No bathroom. The toilet is outside in a whitewashed washhouse. At bedtime the grandchildren are marched dutifully across with a big red torch until a rabbit appears in the field on the other side of the hedge. And they’re off…
“Freedom! That’s what it was. Freedom to do what we wanted.”
Memories fill the room. Memories and laughter with three grown women, Mary, Anne and Marian, sitting round a table in a room that didn’t exist on their weekend visits to their grandparents at Pond Cottage more than 60 years ago. [Press play to join them.]
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Green shoots of hope – I’ve just had a lovely message from a generous man, a rare philanthropist, who is offering to match the money we raise this year for CHAS (Children’s Hospices Across Scotland) through our Scotland’s Gardens Scheme openings.
He means it, he was so impressed by what he learned about CHAS when he visited The Pond Garden two years ago he made a three figure donation. With your support we can help him give more this year.
