On our street, there is a lovely wee cottage I've always liked; it belongs to the estate, so is rented out, and has had a variety of occupants over the years I've been here. It has no name, only and estate number, and teh front door is the brown of all their properties. The occupant I had most contact with was a lady called Hilary, and we always had a natter when we met. Hilary loved her garden here, and spent a lot of time in it, tending it and growing a few vegetables, tall hollyhocks, lots of self seeding was allowed, and I gave her slips and starts of plants, seeds, etc, and she always came up to the plant sales in the hall when they were on. Her garden was a real mix, no formal plan, plants put in where there was room. She put up a lovely little shed and painted it in beach hut colours of cream and blue, and got herself a little greenhouse. She loved that garden. She moved a few years ago, and although there have been people in there, the garden is now 'neglected', in that it's no longer tended by human hand, at least until the next ocupants of the house arrive. The greenhouse has been taken by persons unknown , and the shed ahs sadly collapsed into itself.
I stop to look at it every time I pass, and have watched its progress over the summer. It's now 'going over' - lots of seed heads, flopping stems and autumnal colours - but still very beautiful to my eye. I popped in the other day and took a few nigella heads for the seeds - Hilary would be delighted if she knew.
If only all gardeners were like her.