April 1st.  The trees boom in the wind –something is happening up there. I was reading The Lord’s Army, about the army of children in Uganda who murder, burn and steal as best they can.  They are organised  by a man named Kony, who believes he is God.  Spirits are everywhere – and Kony is possessed by a murderous spirit.  But, though the book is about this evil in a corner of Uganda, I keep glimpsing beyond in the rest of Uganda and in Africa a glorious animism .  Everything is alive with spirits, and the churches are full, and a woman jumps up and laughs, such is her joy in the Lord....

The garden: sacred sanctuary, place for scientific study, haven for solitude and thought, or just a space for sociable delights?  Children’s playground, sculpture park?   For me it’s a bit of all of these but especially a private place where I grow plants and sow seeds, weed and exult over a plant I’d thought lost, where I interact with nature and am blissfully at one with it.  I don’t have to talk with anyone.  I put my arms round the birch, my lady of the woods.  Together with plants and trees extending new shoots, I stretch fingers to the sun and yearn for its warmth.  In the...

March 13 The snowdrops are fading, their souls are elsewhere, they no longer speak, only their plump green ovaries glisten above the dry brown petals.  Soon they will go, leaving not a trace as leaves die and fall on the soil.  It was only when I picked some a month back to bring inside, that I realised they had a glorious honey scent. For the moment, I’ve already dug up and replanted some of Ma’s Mules Ears (maybe Armine, or Benhall Beauty?  A thick green band above the bridges) in a position where I can see them from the house.  I broke some, no idea they had dug down so deep.  Nearly all...

Jonquil had to choose between her bedroom with its sky view, and her basement with its garden view, and she chose the former. I thought she was mad, but now I understand. I lay in bed, sleepless. The dark sky became dull gold, then bruised yellow and mauve, then it had a band of brilliant rose against blue, which faded, and it became stippled with little clouds. It changed each moment. It was my garden in the sky. An effortless garden. Every day different. Then I fell...

Catkins, yellow and pollen grainy, hang from the hazels.  Cornus buds and new stems are swelling red.  There’s a single yellow crocus, where did it come from?   And in a sunny corner a crowd of blue Iris unguicularis with their tiger skin badges.  In the sitting room the little orange tree has fruit and buds, and longs to go outside but I said, not yet.  In the greenhouse two pots of new alliums show pleated leaves two  millimetres high – their names are Midnight Blue and Back to Black – and I am thrilled. They won’t flower, probably for years, because I bought...