The clematis and roses, still in bud,
almost fill the arches now.
Beds edged with nasturtium,
yet to break from their neat rows,
to blur the wide path’s tidy margins.
Not in that explosive,
jewelled way of the original,
but in an ordered, English way.
Regimented stripes of
French and African marigolds
shine, brash against the muted antirrhinums.
Beyond,
under leafing trees, dappled sun
paints spots of light and shade
over the tarmac track.
Tarmac gives way to small red tiles,
pruned olive trees,
a sign – ‘The Alhambra Garden’.
The stringent smell of yew and box.
Dry fountains punctuate a shallow trough –
Japanese cherry,
London Pride and hard balled peonies
deny the ambience of Moorish Spain.
In beds, halos of earth surround
socially distanced perennials
that hint at the riot Summer will bring.
I retrace my steps. Take the tarmac back
through native trees –
below their leafy canopy
a breeze catches daffodils in grass,
the song of birds.
I take out my phone,
capture this familiar scene –
more than beautiful,
in ways I’ve yet to understand, it feels important.
Cate Anderson
One of the Headingley Open Gardens collection. Click to see the full list