|27th September 2020.
Nerine sarniensis .
A couple of cold nights in the week have underlined the changing of the seasons. The garden is still fat fom summer but any day now the winds will blow, the leaves will fall and suddendly
its skeletal structure will be laid bare. It's a good/bad thing. There is something very refreshing about the winter garden, stripped of complexity. There is a scattering of detail
but the effect is very calm and relaxing. I have a small square space on the south side of the house where I like to sit out with a cup of coffee. At present it is cluttered with tubs of tiny daffodils
but the longer I sit in it the more I think it would be improved if it were empty. Less is more. Less fat in the garden, less clutter around the house, less size in the daffodils. I can
go for that.
It is not a message that I would take to the Nerine house where more is clearly more. My father was once asked what was his favourite dessert and he replied "big". That is clearly the guiding spirit of Nerine. In the course of the week the Nerine have shifted from a speckling of bright colour to a rainbow of astonishment. It will continue for several weeks, I have no doubt it will be better in a weeks time, but there is something very special about the first overwhelming moment. All of the detail knits together into a single experience. I love them all, every single foolish one of them. I even love them in the summer, asleep in the pots with just their nobbly noises showing. Suddenly in the autumn they transcend all of that. They form a river of colour and I am transported.
Here endeth the metaphysical clap-trap.