From first thing in the morning when we come downstairs from our bedroom and pass the front door looking out into the garden at the front of the house, our eyes are startled by light, colour, contrast and amazing plant architecture. So familiar to us yet each time we see it, it is as though for the first time. In the winter months, needless to say, what catches our attention is not blazing colour but a monochromatic scheme of white and grey.

Winter landscapes are beautiful, but over time no longer fresh, when the mind automatically turns to bringing up a colour recollection of what the summertime garden looks like. We can conjure up a hazy picture in our minds, but never does it quite present with the detail and splendour of visually confronting a summer garden in its full height of bloom.

Last night's heavy rainfall left the garden drenched, foliage glittering with the moisture-jewels that the sun full-on emphasizes; not yet dried, and decorating the plants as though with mystical, magical intent. These are the best times to wander about in the garden, after breakfast, for pleasure and for stock-taking, as it were.

Yesterday's cool and pleasant temperature gave me the incentive I needed to get out into the garden for an hour of tidying up in the afternoon after our usual forest excursion. That hour produced cuttings and discards enough to fill a large compost container. The spent blooms, overgrown plants, occasional weeds and other detritus crowding a garden neglected of care for a week or two cry out for tidying.

And when that work is done, it makes the ritual of casually wandering through the garden all the more pleasurable, bringing order once again to plants' proclivity to overgrow themselves and their allotted territory.

The garden cannot be challenged for its ability to transform moods, creating a serene atmosphere in appreciating its textural diversity and colour shadings, the various and splendid floral forms and the pleasure we take in viewing these intriguing life forms, singly and collectively.