My Childhood Garden Part I

A Memory of Shamley Green.

My mother has often said to me "You don't appreciate what you've got until you lose it". She is wrong, for I will never forget the wonderful garden of my childhood and write below the memories that I will hold for all time.

It all began when I was five years old and my parents first drove from where we lived in London southwards to a small village called Shamley Green which is 5 miles outside of the town Guildford, Surrey. The day was overcast and chilly and it had been raining. Everything was wet and shiny. Jewel-like droplets of rain still hung from leaves and nestled within clumps of grass along the roadside. Occasionally I saw rainbow coloured slicks of oil glistening on the surface of some of the many puddles that had collected in small pools along the edges of the roads and lanes as we drove by. As I sat in the back of the specially rented car for that journey, hearing the sound of the cars engine droning on, as we continued mile after mile, I gazed out of the windows in wonder, as we passed the many houses and cottages, all of which it seemed were tucked away within a garden of their own. So many gardens of all shapes and sizes slipped passed. Roads gave way to smaller roads then winding country lanes.

Our home in London was a flat situated up a flight of concrete steps and my garden was the park my mother took me to occasionally. I had never seen so much greenery, so many trees or saw and heard so many birds singing. There was activity everywhere only this time instead of the cars, taxies, lorries, buses, shops, flats and pavements that I usually heard and saw; it was nature that my senses were now witnessing and experiencing to the full. Everything smelt so different and utterly intoxicating to me, and this magic has never left me and which I ache to be back within and a part of again. The over-riding smell that day was of wet earth and leaves after the rain, a musty, warm somehow comforting smell.

We eventually drove down yet another narrow lane, lined all along the left hand side with enormous oak trees whose branches bent down low over the tangled hedgerow. I felt all I had to do was reach out of the window to touch them as we drove past. At that moment I fell in love with oak trees, sensing in them an ancient wisdom gained from the hundreds of years they had stood watching the world go by. We finally stopped and my parents said we were here. We went through a weathered wooden gate and walked up an overgrown garden path towards a front door. My father then knocked on the door of the house. An elderly lady answered with a big smile and invited us in, I learned later her name was Mrs Harris, or, as I was instructed later to call her, Auntie Linda. As all children do, I soon became bored listening to the grown-ups talking and just longed to go out into the garden that I could see through the misted-up sitting-room window. On asking, I was told that provided I take care not to get my clothes or white socks dirty then I could!

I eagerly stepped down onto the redbrick step and ventured out through the open back door leading into the garden. This was heaven. I took a deep breath, how clean and sweet the air smelt, fresh and cool from the recent rain with that rich earthy smell wafting around my nose. I looked down at an enormous worm slowly working its way across the wet path towards the soft earth and safety. Over there was a snail also trapped by the puddles, sliding his way round the stones towards a clump of grass, leaving a shiny silvery trail where he had been. Around the corner of the outside toilet I peeked and gazed at a gnarled Coxs apple tree in the middle of the lawn. How old the tree looked and what a beautiful shape the branches had grown into. I wondered what its fruit would taste like but all I saw were a few rotting apples on the ground.

The garden was very overgrown, but I didn't care for to me it all looked wonderful and somehow full of secrets. All I knew was I wanted to be here forever, to touch, smell and explore this wonderful garden.

Unfortunately, although I had been told to be careful not to get dirty, I slipped on a drain cover and sat down with a thump onto the wet muddy ground, cold rainwater oozing into my knickers and splashing my clean white socks. Being so young, I was scared of being told off and the shock of the cold wet ground and bump on landing made me cry. My parents suddenly appeared and insisted I come back indoors. I hated that, I just wanted to stay. I had only been in the garden a few minutes too - it was so unfair!

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