gypsy


Odd isn't it how this word is (mis)used to mean something horrible; when I was little, gypsies, were  pictured in storybooks weaving baskets, dancing, and living in harmony with nature.  I thought they were fabulous. The caravans and horses I  sometimes see on road sides still make me smile;  I have even thought about having one in my garden as a retreat. It would fit nicely where the arbour is at the moment but I think it's a pipe dream really. I don't think I would use it - there is enough space in the house and I would hate it to become a place to store stuff.  

The first photo is from a birthday card I am sending to a special lady in Switzerland. Her name is Madame Marguerite Sudan and she was a dear friend to my mum throughout her life. Mum always called her Maguy - (phonetic version of Maggie for a French speaker) and both my daughters went to Switzerland on separate visits with their maternal grandma to see her  - Kate when she was 10 and Luci when she was 8. I also remember times we spent together in my own teenage years when I spent school holidays with my grandparents. Well on Saturday she is 91 and I haven't forgotten her birthday. I hope she likes the gypsy caravan on her card.   






Taken at Burford Garden Company in Oxfordshire


shepherd's hut you can buy now

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