Saturday, June 23, 2012
reflection friends pipe
Sissinghurst gardens from the outside.
"I've made more friends here," says the Belgian nurseryman at The Farmers' Market, " than in Belgium ." He greets me with a handshake and the one word "pigeons" because we are both plagued by them in our gardens. The pigeons have now started to nibble the tops of my Little Gem lettuces. Until now lettuces have proved the most successful crop thanks to the rain.
I watch as a man stops to light a pipe in The Grove. He is practised smoker. Despite the wind it begins to puff out a cloud of smoke. He walks on his pipe emitting skeins of smoke as though he is a steam engine and the pipe is a component of the machinery which propels him forward. He greets me with a cheery wave of his hand, the pipe still clenched between his teeth. The smell of freshly lit tobacco lingers in his wake.