POGLE’S WOOD: THE REWILDING OF A LEGEND

A deeply personal reflection on childhood belief, memory, and the quiet rewilding of a lost garden space known as Pogle’s Wood.

When I was young, everything was black and white — except the Wellingtons were red.

Black-and-white still from Pogle’s Wood showing Mr and Mrs Pogle, Pippin, and Tog outside their tree home with tea set.
Mr and Mrs Pogle, Pippin, and Tog outside their woodland home. Image reproduced with kind permission. © Dragons Friendly Society.

Skipper was a fox terrier, and I belonged to him. If either of us got a biscuit, we ran to a secluded part of the garden and shared it. It was a quiet pact between species, unspoken but absolute.

I was small, and young, and I could read and write, though badly. But I could listen. And I did — every day — with ‘Listen With Mother’ on the wireless: “Now children, march around the room like little soldiers,” and we did, obedient to the voice from the box. Later came ‘Watch With Mother’—before 4pm, always on the old rental black and white television. And one programme in particular held me entirely: The Pogles. Later renamed Pogle’s Wood.

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THE PEACE LILY FROM TESCO THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING: EVELYN’S STORY

Peace lily in a white ceramic pot, standing upright with dark green leaves and a white bloom.

She came from Tesco.

Not a garden centre.
Not an emporium of scented promises and curated moss.
Tesco—between discounted daffodils and a shelf of limp parsley.
Wrapped in silence, in cellophane, in clearance.
She sat in a white ceramic pot. Once £12, now £9.

No one looked twice.
But we did.

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THE BENTON IRISES TAKE THE STAGE: GROWING CEDRIC MORRIS’S HISTORIC BEARDED IRISES

THE BENTON IRISES TAKE THE STAGE

New arrivals, familiar ghosts, and the promise of a future performance.

The new arrivals swept in like a travelling troupe — fresh from the hay-strewn hold, labels stapled to their leaves like boarding passes. A little dishevelled, a little dazed, but humming with potential.

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