Rural Community Gateway

One of the pleasant things about summer is the number of private gardens open to the public in aid of a particular charity or cause that provides a chance for folk like me to see what other folk - the sort of admirable folk who open their gardens to public scrutiny - have done in the horticultural line of things, not to mention the opportunity to have a good ‘nose’ in somebody else’s shrubbery, a cup of tea and a home-made bun. 

On my way home from one such ‘nose’ in the shrubbery, I was faced with an oncoming car hurtling towards us at speed. Quick as a flash, nimble as a thimble (always one to possess lightening reactions) I took evasive action and swung the car off the single track road up a shallow incline peppered with variegated ivy and foxgloves as the offending vehicle, a beige Honda, passed by at breakneck speed.

As luck would have it, I didn’t have the trailer attached to the car at the time, otherwise who knows what might have happened. It’s a relatively new acquisition, the trailer, as the dents in the side of my car bear witness to (my reversing technique is still in its infancy, you know, and I haven’t yet developed the facial stubble and boiler suit stance of a man in control of all things horticultural).

The driver of the offending Honda, a manic-looking woman with gleaming nashers, flared nostrils and a multicoloured bobble hat, gesticulated wildly, both hands skywards, but strangely not at me, you know, but at the empty road ahead, and I could have sworn I glimpsed a string quartet playing a feisty tune in the back of the car. Had the world gone mad this afternoon, I wondered? Lucky for her, of course, that there were no ‘Rozzers’ about: a good six points off your licence for that sort of behaviour, that’s what I say.

Now unlike string quartets in the back of speeding Hondas driven by apparitions of an orchestral kind, gardens and music complement each other well, something akin to strawberries and cream, prunes and custard or a bacon butty from the Auction Mart (a good place, incidentally, to practice your boiler suit skills).

A fine example of gardens and music in tandem was an Open Day last summer at Foulis Castle in aid of funds for the Feis Rois. It gave folks like me the chance to peruse the shrubs, stroll the grounds and partake of tea and cake whilst listening ‘alfresco’ to a host of talented local musicians with curious names as they strummed, sung and fiddled on the castle lawn.

Personally I like a spot of music myself whilst gardening and often plug myself into the MP3 player as I decapitate swathes of grass to the strains of Klaxon, a hardy pruning to the View, or maybe a gentle hoe to Ray Lamontagne. Highly therapeutic, you know.

Now on reflection, given my earlier comments about string quartets in the back of cars, it’s maybe not a bad idea after all, as long as you keep your hands on the steering wheel (no six point deductions for me). So on your way home from a good ‘nose’ in someone else’s shrubbery this weekend, if you happen to spot an unshaven apparition of a horticultural kind in a boiler suit driving a dented car with a string quartet playing a feisty tune in the back, then it might possibly be me. Hoot your horn, something musical please, and - once I’ve fully mastered the technique - I’ll give you a well-practiced horticultural nod of acknowledgement.

(Published in the Ross-shire Journal  29th June 2007)

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