Three things obscured serious attention to the Dumfriesshire garden this month. I was heavily involved in the logistics of ‘launching’ my first novel. We were away on a short but garden-rich holiday in the Cotswolds. At home, the weather was unpredictable, occasionally too hot, sometimes cold and breezy, and mostly very wet!
Author Archives: David Graham Clark
Starting a local Writers’ Group
I’d never been a member of a Writers’ Group, though some of my writing friends are long term enthusiasts. So I’m not sure why in the autumn of 2024 I had the notion to get such a group started in my home parish. Kirkmahoe is a small, rural community in Dumfries and Galloway, Scotland, madeContinue reading “Starting a local Writers’ Group”
May be or May be not
In my forthcoming debut novel and in effulgent terms, I describe May in south west Scotland, where I live. May can be the finest month in the Nithsdale year. Through the woods, bluebells nod in drifts. Along the loanings, cow parsley froths and swaggers. The lovely campion and cuckoo flowers are everywhere in the grassland.Continue reading “May be or May be not”
Lost in the allotment garden
There was always a laid-back air at the Tír na nÓg community gardens. Working collectively, growing fruit and vegetables organically, and sharing the produce equally, its members, youthful in the 1960s, were continuing their dreams in later years. Some evenings, blues-inflected guitar music would drift across the plots. On hot afternoons, a few folk mightContinue reading “Lost in the allotment garden”
April come she will
April can seem full of deception. Promising much, then failing to deliver. Eulogized by the poets for its splendour, but also exposed by them as painful and cruel. The gateway to Spring, it still has frost on its back. Not for the first time in my life, I associate it this year with death andContinue reading “April come she will”
“Interesting to read in five years’ time”: a pandemic journal of April 2020
As the COVID-19 pandemic gained momentum in the Spring of 2020, I was telling an acquaintance that I’d started keeping a detailed journal, documenting daily events, news, personal reflections and accounts of living under lockdown. ‘I suppose that might be interesting to read in five or so years from now’, was the rather sceptical reply.Continue reading ““Interesting to read in five years’ time”: a pandemic journal of April 2020″
When Spring arrives
The man of March he sees the Spring and wonders what the year will bring* My early days of March are blighted by a heavy cold that vitiates productivity. The flu-like symptoms are made worse as our household struggles with the loss of a dear friend. On the weather front, it’s a month of hail,Continue reading “When Spring arrives”
February’s charms and alarms
The February man still shakes the snowFrom off his hair and blows his hands (1) For the Romans it was a month of purification. British weather lore declares it brings rain or snow, or both. The Venerable Bede called it the month of cakes. From Brigid to Valentine, many saints are associated with it. TheContinue reading “February’s charms and alarms”
The Vice-Chancellor’s Handover
When Professor Sir Angus Brown gave 12 months’ notice of his impending retirement, he envisaged a dignified departure from the University, preceded by an orderly transition of responsibilities. The conclusion of his nine years as Vice Chancellor of one of the oldest seats of learning in the land would be a measured and celebratory affair,Continue reading “The Vice-Chancellor’s Handover”
In and around the garden: some fragments from January
The January man he goes around in woollen coat and boots of leather (1) The year begins with weather warnings. Frost settles into the garden ground and doesn’t move. Motivation is low. Piles of hazel thinnings lay unsorted or trimmed. Tall herbaceous plants, long past the ‘interesting in winter’ stage need cutting back. Leaves areContinue reading “In and around the garden: some fragments from January”
Quotidian 