The final package to go out from these gardens this year is the most poignant. A wild woven wreath for the wicker coffin of my beloved children's father. He was once my best friend, my mate, my chum as well as my lover and my husband. A kind soul, a ready wit, a bright mind, a curious spirit. He was the father of our two utterly wonderful children. Our lives took quite different directions and last week his reached its end.
He will be buried on Monday in a green burial plot in Kent. Perhaps a seed head or two from his hoop will spill something that will germinate and grow to mark the spot.
In every end there is a beginning. And every beginning leads inevitably to an end.