Much to my surprise, M wasn’t upset at all about the holm oak by the front gate, felled only by snow that fateful windless night. It was beautiful, we both agree - a stately sentinel to the beginning of the garden, reserved yet majestic. But with its sudden departure, we’re left with an unexpected view - a towering 100ft cliff of yellow limestone [the edge of the Provençal escarpment], cawing rooks and a burst of blue sky.
What to do with such an opening? I feel giddy with opportunity and suggest all manner of exotica. I’m swiftly beaten down and reminded of the wildness of the setting by M and C. OK, still a lot to learn. The old maxim ‘live with a new garden for a year, then make changes’ rings true...
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