You know? I felt this once before, at a gathering on a farm near Telephone, Texas.

I feel the way you describe you feel in your garden, when I am in wild nature. There’s a glade at the end of the place here, it’s got that quality of peculiar openness to it. Wild hazel trees, ferns, mosses and a stream. But the tree branches kind of curl around, protecting it and giving it the feeling of a hideaway. I love very enclosed forests for this reason. My hut, however, feels completely out of space and time. It is some kind of carpeted Tardis.

I am very lazy at the moment and have not taken pictures. I think partly it is because I am still the only person who has actually been inside it in its current state of kind-of-completedness. There’s something really really great about that, and I suppose I am somewhat reluctant to post it on the internet, you know? It’s like your attic fort, it’s a hideaway.

I’ve even sealed up the front windows for the winter, with space blankets and aluminium thermal wrap, so it feels very private. Not bunkery, it’s still light, a bit like a caravan. I say all this because I really do want to share with ye what I have done to the space, pics etc. but right now I feel like when I am out there, I am in this very nicely kitted out solitude. Wifi does not even reach through the insulation at the moment. I suppose I will get around to doing something about that sooner or later, but it’s all good right now.

I guess these days my garden is my tent. I go out there and feel enclosed in green, in a way that is at once protected and strangely open in time and place, reaching back into what has always made dirt good, and rot a promise.