Yesterday was a wonderful gardening day, sunny and dry and not too hot.
I switched between the cooler shaded stream or burn border and the trellis border. Neither are finished, nothing in this garden ever resembles a finished state, but as they say – ‘tomorrow is another day’.
The stream border is on the northern side of the cottage. Edged with pine trees, rosa rugosa and the Fatsia which needs pruning, it has become a bit leggy but keeps the border cool and shady and protected from any strong inland winds. The buds on the rosa rugosa and hydrangea in the border are only just starting to unfold as they too were quite leggy and I cut them back quite hard this year.
Meanwhile in the trellis border on the seaside of the cottage the plants I put in last year…
……have now been un-netted so I can weed inside (no doubt watched over by the bunnies on the hill pondering on their next juicy meal) and I am in the process of removing the stones edging the border for easier grass cutting.
It is slow work. And a long border.
Around the garden, especially in the lower wood and woodland walk, things are stirring and beginning to flower.
Solomon’s Seal
Dicentras and Tiarella
and apple blossom.
The sea yesterday was a beautiful indigo blue – such a contrast to the silvery grey earlier in the week. 
I woke up this morning so late, it was a quarter to ten when I finally got up – I think I had gardened myself into a standstill yesterday so we decided a day doing very little was in order.
A long shower, the last of the tomato soup and then a little afternoon jaunt in the surrounding countryside. Our only fixed point was to go back to Dunragit a few miles outside of Stranraer to see the ‘mound’. 
The Mound of Droughduil was identified only a few years ago by archaeologists from Manchester University as Neolithic dating back to 2500BC and not Medieval as originally thought. In stone age times it was a ceremonial centre and meeting place for the local community. We went to take a closer look today as it is magnificently covered in Bluebells. 
We climbed up to the top –it stands some 30 feet high and is quite flat on the top – a lovely place to picnic maybe – just a touch draughty; the summit being reached by a tiny trail path through the grass and bluebells. Strange to think how many feet through the ages have trodden on this very turf. Although not quite the dizzy heights of the Eifel Tower the view from the top is still worth the climb. 
Going down seemed much steeper than going up. 
Afterwards we took the road up to New Luce – but that is a story for tomorrow. For now it is my bedtime, DH is already tucked up in bed – I can hear the gentle wafts of snoring coming from the bedroom – no doubt I will be back in the borders tomorrow. x
Raining all day here today – the forecast was right, but it was not heavy rain more a constant drip and drizzle so it didn’t sound like we were sitting in a tin can as caravans often do in the rain, in fact we hardly heard it at all.
I spent some time catching up with a few blogs and realised how many have fallen away recently – pressure of time, nasty commenters and some just run their course – but they are missed.
There is nothing so lovely as a few raindrops and I just had to take one or two quick snaps. I absolutely love these little cones on this pine tree they are like tiny raspberries.
It was always our greeting.   She would call out to me on arrival at the office ‘morning Miss V’ and I always responded with ‘morning Miss T’ – it stuck over the years and everyone else always addressed us as Miss V and Miss T like the shop assistants were called back in the day. Some things I still miss about working!
So far the rabbits have left them alone but I have to cover the roots of the hydrangea with large stones to prevent them digging and nibbling them. I think the ivy needs a bit more of a trim tomorrow then, weather allowing, I will be moving on to the trellis border.
It is 8 o’clock in the evening and I feel like I am in heaven – I am sitting here in the caravan with a piece of Walter Burnett’s famed Kirriemuir gingerbread (only to be found over the border) and a cup of tea, the tide is in but the sea is quite calm and has faded to a beautiful silvery grey colour and there is a general hush outside – not even a little twitter.   It is so still even the feather light plumes on the Pampas grass, which are usually dancing about on the sea breeze, are still and the only movement is the odd cow in the field to the side of us that cannot decide where the best grazing is…..and of course Rag, Tag and Bobtail hopping around on the hillside. The only thing that could make this moment any better would be if I were sitting in our cottage, but that still seems like a distant dream.
There is plenty to see along the beach, gulls flying in, gulls flying off…mysterious footprints in the sand and part buried objects and I spend some time searching our pieces of sea glass.
I love this rusty sheet of metal it is quite a work of art.
We left the beach by the hidden path to the cottages on Shore Street – one of my favourite places – there is always a seat or two along here for passing the time of day beneath a Palm tree. The carpet of daisies is like a light covering of snow.
At the far end of Shore Street is the Harbour master’s office in this little cottage. I have a feeling it is no longer used as there used to be a sign on the door.
From Shore Street and the harbour we have to climb up the hill into the centre of the village.
I just love this ladies garden (I admire it every time we pass) and in particular her clever use of the Japanese Quince edging the full length of her whitewashed wall. I might just have to pinch this idea for myself though I don’t have any painted walls and without the contrast with the white it would not have the same impact.
You may think that I have come away on a Mediterranean holiday with the Palm trees and blue skies but I assure you this really is down on the Mull of Galloway today and the photos have not been enhanced in any way.
The high road looks over the beach and harbour – such a beautiful view from up here.
The hedgerows are full of bluebells.
Just as you leave the main stretch of houses and before the doctor’s house that stands alone at the junction of the low road (which is now only a path and closed to traffic) is the Community Garden kept neat and tidy by volunteers. The scarecrow was part of the village Scarecrow Competition last summer but was so well liked it has remained in the garden since. 
Once past the doctor’s house we are nearly at our cottage – we are the last house in the village, the secret cottage hidden by the wood – I hope you will keep that quiet.
where the journey takes me 2 