Awestruck wonder surged through me like a rush of warm air on a balmy summer’s night. Magical, comforting and memorable.
Vividly I recall this moment as I opened the gate into the enchanting sight of Kellie Castle walled garden for the first time.
It suddenly hit me that I work here… HERE! Wow. I felt like a new student at Hogwarts, discovering a mystical world I’d previously been blind to.
My first day ever as a gardener.
A job that I’m unafraid to admit, I got because I was the only person to show up to interview.
The interview went horribly. I sat there staring blankly in panic at the five jars of cut flowers on the desk in front of me whilst being asked if I knew what they were.
Worse still was the fact that they had sneakily told me the names of all five already. Just moments before we did a garden walk around ahead of the formal interview.
Kellie Castle visit a reminder
Quickly I fell in love with horticulture. Mark Armour, the head gardener, is still my gardening hero to this day.
He gave me a chance, trained me up then passed me selflessly on to an apprenticeship at another garden. My career snowballed thereafter.
Why am I telling you this? Well, I’ve been doing some soul searching.
I revisited Kellie Castle recently and it all came rushing back to me. Inspiration. That strange and unexplainable ping in your head that just makes you feel a rush of joy.
Anything is possible.
Finding your inspiration
I want you to take a moment and think of your first foray into gardening. Did you grow tomatoes with a relative?
Walk around a special garden and wish you could have one like that? Whatever yours was, remember it fondly. Draw on it.
As we fall further towards winter darkness and colder mornings, that inspiration is easy to lose.
There isn’t a huge drive to jump into the garden with three layers on while a thousand tiny needles of wind prick your face. I get it, believe me.
Sometimes I’m driven by sheer willpower of deadlines… Get the ivy pruned, weed car park, write exquisite column for P&J etc.
Mindfulness
Regardless of whether you’ve got a wonderful superhero-like origin story or not; stop and take a moment.
A proper moment. Really look at that tree and all its intricacies. The pattern on the bark, the way the leaves and branches rustle.
The penumbral shadows it casts on the ground and walls. Feel connected to the world.
Now and again I do this when I need a touch of inspiration or cheering up. They call this mindfulness.
Trust me, I used to think it was new-fangled nonsense like psychics or flat earthers but it’s surprisingly effective.
Revisiting Kellie Castle though was powerful. A real recharge of gardening soul.
Not only did it remind me of that perhaps rose-tinted start, but also how far I’ve come.
Much like looking after a plant every day, you don’t notice the change.
Take two weeks away and come back and you’re amazed! That is except for pumpkins.
Those freaks of nature grow around eight inches a day. You can practically grab a cuppa tea or a Pimm’s and watch them grow in real time. Brilliant fun! One of my favourites. If only they didn’t taste awful.
Kellie Castle
I suppose I should ge’ Kellie Castle a plug since I’ve talked it up so much. If you’ve never been then it is located in the East Neuk of Fife near Anstruther.
Run by the National Trust for Scotland, it is a 19th Century Arts and Crafts garden.
Organically managed, it is a romantic wee soul. Art deco benches sit among naturalistic herbaceous borders, vegetable plots, roses and apple trees.
It has an impressive 29 varieties of rhubarb! Which all look affa’ bonnie under their old Victorian forcing jars in February/March.
On my visit, a memory jumped back. The first time sowing a shallow dreel of beetroot with Diane Barrie the resident veg expert.
Five days later I came in to Diane who immediately gave me that look. The kind of look you get when you stumble in after a night of ‘lemonades’ and wake up the other half.
I’d messed up you see. She gave that look and a grin, then said “follow me”.
When I got to the dreel I can only describe it as serpentine in nature.
Diane had seven beautiful straight rows then there was mine looking like a slug that spent all night in a beer trap and escaped. How we grow.
Take care and happy gardening.
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