My neighbor’s garden is like the best seed catalog in full bloom or a paragraph in an Elizabeth Bowen novel. English born, although he’s been in Folly Cove for thirty-something years, Andrew plants his garden with humor – “I believe in weeding,” he says, looking into a healthy but untidy patch of green, “but I don’t do it.” – and British taste.
A hedgerow of privet, a few stray calendula, the trailing ends of grapevine tumbling down from an arbor and a wisteria climbing up, all woven into a bit of wire fencing, make a verdant barrier around his plot of garden bed on a sunny hillside overlooking sparkling Folly Cove.
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