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When I lived in a town...

I was musing to myself this morning as I was weeding, as you do, that when I lived in a city (Bath), I felt that if I left the garden for a year or two, I'd come back and probably find a load of dandelions and long grass but it would still be where I left it. When I lived on the edge of a city (Bristol) there was a distant presence on the horizon which felt like in a few years might begin to encroach but still, the garden would be there, with the apple trees and hawthorns probably becoming lost in a wider, wilder wood. Oddly, perhaps, when we lived in a Cotswold village it felt much more permanent, like it would just go to sleep and wait for my return and just be a slightly shaggier version of itself.
But here, there is a pressure of nature on all sides of us. It's as if we've made a small clearing for ourselves but the birds and plants and animals that were already here just ignore us and carry on. Ferns and nettles sprout from new stone walls after only one season, the swallows and redstarts and bluetits and wagtails all nest in the house walls, the garage, the shed, the robins and wrens make a home in whatever we leave alone for a week or two - cement mixers, cars, trailers. Grass grows EVERYWHERE. I feel if I left it for even one summer, the house would be swallowed again by the time I came back and I'd need a machete to find it.
I rather like it, but it is slightly intimidating
But here, there is a pressure of nature on all sides of us. It's as if we've made a small clearing for ourselves but the birds and plants and animals that were already here just ignore us and carry on. Ferns and nettles sprout from new stone walls after only one season, the swallows and redstarts and bluetits and wagtails all nest in the house walls, the garage, the shed, the robins and wrens make a home in whatever we leave alone for a week or two - cement mixers, cars, trailers. Grass grows EVERYWHERE. I feel if I left it for even one summer, the house would be swallowed again by the time I came back and I'd need a machete to find it.
I rather like it, but it is slightly intimidating

Gardening on the edge of Exmoor, in Devon
“It's still magic even if you know how it's done.”
“It's still magic even if you know how it's done.”
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“It's still magic even if you know how it's done.”
There still isn't anywhere I would rather be
There are robins, blackbirds, tits, redstarts and other little brown jobs that all visit here regularly and I'm sure some of those nest in nooks and crannies round the ruin and hedges but we deliberately don't look in case we disturb them.
I guess it's how farmers have always felt
“It's still magic even if you know how it's done.”
“It's still magic even if you know how it's done.”