My garden is excruciatingly small. There's hardly a plant in it which can't be swiped by something on the washing line. My house, though practical, is un-scenic and has plastic windows. The garden is enclosed. That, of course, is good. But small surrounded by tall means something is always in shadow. On its east side is the house. On the north and west are walls - built from an ugly brick out of which tar oozes. On the south side is a wooden fence which used to look ok but then I used the wrong preservative and after that it didn't.
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One of the most useful advices I was given before having children was to lie on the floor to check the world from a rolling infant's point of view. That way, you notice the forgotten lead, the un-used and un-protected electric socket. So there I was, lying on the floor, doing my health and safety check and thinking . . . my! is it boring down here! The front of the sofa was long and high and monochrome. The carpet, similarly dull, stretched into the distance. Pictures on the walls were distorted and unintelligible with great spaces of nothingness in between. Windows were a huge glare of light.
So our house became a low-to-ground art gallery with pictures propped along the front of the sofa. Painted ants marched along the skirting board and I stencilled cows and clowns above them. It was then we arrived with the idea of crowding space. Your feet don't need much room to stand on. Why waste all that carpet with nothingness when there could be books standing open and onions to roll into bowls?
This added to my own experience of life too. Because I have epilepsy and keel over from time to time, I see the world only too often from a prone position. I already knew how chair legs seem awfully tall when you look up at them, how angles are all wrong and the ceiling is a million miles away. Ground level view was interesting but not beautiful. Decorating it gave me something to look at too! A new perspective.
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How does this relate to a small garden? It makes it bigger, that's what! When your eye is level with the grass, you can't see much further than a few blades. The scene is filled with the immediate. Anything further than few inches is now another world. So even a small garden becomes a multitude of little worlds - a universe.
I like to see things grow. I like to look at a leaf. I'm not very good at landscapes. I know I used to be more aware of the longer-view because I can remember gardens from my past. But 'close-ups' and 'down-to-grounds' are more important nowadays.
So my garden looks bigger than it really is. I have elastic vision - one which pushes boundaries, increases the number of plants. A single daffodil becomes a crowd. Two a collection. A tree is a copse. A vine a vineyard.
That explained . . . I can think about showing you photographs. (On another day!)