A Country Wedding

On Saturday we went to the wedding of my god-daughter at the pretty church of St Bertoline in Cheshire, which dates back to the 1100s and is built on the site of an Anglo-Saxon burial ground. It looks so quiet and peaceful doesn't it? And yet in 1643, during the English Civil War, on Christmas Eve, when a group of Royalists commanded by Major Connought plundered the village of Barthomley, twenty Parliamentarians took refuge in the tower of St Bertoline's Church. The Royalists made a fire at the base of the tower to smoke them out, which forced the Parliamentarians to surrender. Connought's men then stripped and killed twelve of them in cold blood and wounded most of the others. There are supposedly still hoof marks on the stone stairs where the Royalists tried to ride their horses up to the top of the tower.


This is the White Lion where L & I had lunch before the wedding. It is about as close to the church as it could be and is very old. They have served ale here since at least 1614. Inside there is a big open fire, wooden tables and benches,one of which had the pub cat curled up on it. Nearly every table appeared to have a dog under it - there was a greyhound, a beagle, a border terrier, a rather out of place looking poodle and various others - all accompanying their owners who were having lunch there.


These are the bridesmaids, the middle one is my god-daughter's elder sister.


This is the best I can manage in the way of a photo of the bride and groom, because there are narrow, steep steps fom the church to the lower level, only the official photographer was getting a decent view. L just managed this one quick snap fom the side, mostly they were hidden by crowds of guests.


The bride's mother and I - we have been friends for nearly 40 years and were bridesmaids to each other many moons ago.


The last photo has a sad story attached to it, this little girl is the daughter of people Jenny, (the bride), knows through the theatre group she is involved with. She wanted desperately to be a bridesmaid so Jenny granted her wish. It may be the only chance she ever has as she is dying of cancer. She looks so lovely in her little white fur cloak and muff - it's hard to believe that she has so much suffering behind and ahead of her. She's a very brave little girl and a great example to all of us.

Memories of a Summer Garden

A last look back at the garden this summer - autumn is definitely here now with a completely different palette in her hands and the pinks, whites and blues are a distant memory .The picture above is a part of the front garden in mid May.




This is my lovely Scotch burnet rose grown from a single tiny 6 inch high rooted cutting. It came from a beautiful garden in Norfolk.




White iris and blue hardy geraniums in early June.




Rosa 'Reine des Violettes' beautiful to look at and with a wonderful perfume too.




The geranium is standing in a circle formed by not quite triangular bricks which once formed part of a pillar that supported the upper floor of an ancient granary barn in Lincolnshire. They came from a reclamation yard and I loved the shape and the wonderful soft pink of the brick as soon as I saw them. Now I wish I'd bought more! The geranium is still flowering.



This is the border opposite the back door with white Goat's Beard, yellow Welsh poppies, one of my rosemary bushes and sundry other bits and pieces.




This would repay a double click on the photo, it's just one of the borders in mid June - I appear, rather like Picasso, to be in my blue period here!




A lovely campanula. They tend to collapse and lean drunkenly about but I love all of them.




The best of all memories, my younger son and my lovely daughter-in-law were married in the garden in June under the oak tree and we had a marquee for the reception. The weather was marvellous and we had a fantastic Argentinian guitarist/singer in the evening who played latin american, swing and jazz music. It was a wonderful day.