In the deafening silence, The early morning dew has painted droplets on filigree nets. Interlacing secrets, created by silent weavers, while we slept. Each quite unique, of unparalleled beauty, transparent, yet visible, A magical transformation.
In 1990, as we were driving through a little village, I noticed a quaint old barn with a corrugated roof, and a newly-built house adjacent to it. They were standing on a large plot of land, full of pernicious weeds - a corner of a farmer's field, in fact. Then we saw the "For Sale" sign. Four months later we moved in and decided to create a garden for wildlife.