Liz Cowley - Gardening in Slippers: New Poems for Garden Lovers

Often clipping and pottering first thing in the morning, Liz turns her wicked verse on ants and weeds, early frost and slippery moss, and the many triumphs and trials of gardening. All the delights and minor tribulations are wittily captured, from bees helicoptering, lunch outside or inside, to irritation about a snapped handle. In observant, whimsical, poignant and highly readable lines, Lizs new collection of over a hundred poems in different styles is an enjoyable journey to the happiness of the amateur gardener. Sir Tim Smit (Foreword) is co-founder of the Eden Project, Cornwall, and author of Eden and The Lost Gardens of Heligan. Liz Cowley has had a long career as an advertising copywriter (she invented the phrase A mother is born) and enjoyed writing poetry for her own enjoyment from an early age. Her first humorous collection came out in 2008 and took the top poetry spot on Amazon.

Two of her collections were adapted for a stage show in Dublin and London in 2010. She lives in Putney, London, and is Britains only gardening poet. Every poem in this new collection was checked for botanical accuracy, and read by a group of twenty fellow gardening enthusiasts as a sounding board. This edition published for the first time by Gibson Square UK Tel: +44 (0)20 7096 1100 US Tel: +1 646 216 9813 EIRE Tel: +353 (0)1 657 1057 www.gibsonsquare.com ISBN 9781783340767 Ebook production: booqlab.com The moral right of Liz Cowley to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior consent of the publisher. 2015 by Liz Cowley. 2015 by Liz Cowley.

Cover illustration by Dorrance.

Liz Cowleys writing is as if Pam Ayres and John Betjemans poetry had had a love child. To say she is Britains only humorous gardening poet is somewhat to miss the point. Liz is indeed both humorous and a poet, as well as a gardener, but you cannot write as side-splittingly, eye-wateringly, movingly well without a deep love for your subject. For me, the pleasure of her writing is that its gentleness is not fey or wistful. It has the muscularity of someone who has something to say.

Once the smile fades from your lips you are struck that behind what appears to be a light, self-deprecating lilt lies a passion signalling furiously that these words, if they are merely humour to you, mean you understand nothing! It is a beautiful British art to be understated, and what Liz Cowley writes about is trivial things of a significant nature the trivia that actually provide the glue to a life well lived. These lovely poems are about meaning and belonging, respect and affection, and they are tinged with wonder about and gratefulness for all life. Trivia like these are rare as hens teeth. Give yourself a treat and embark on a journey that will cheer you up, and leave you feeling warm inside and thoughtful. The Eden Project Bodelva, St Austell
Cornwall

Like me, you may slip out first thing
to have a look at everything
a lovely time to be alone,
and see if anything has grown. Best time to marvel at your flowers before the busy coming hours the perfect time to be alone without the stress or mobile phone.

The time to plan what you will do with no one interrupting you. A quiet time to come on down and wander in your dressing gown. A peaceful time to stroll out there or take the nearest garden chair, and think about your space a bit and wonder what might add to it. Just pottering around the lawn can often make one feel reborn. Theres so much stress around today, but out there it can float away. And once youre through the garden door, some things dont matter any more, or far less than they did before.

I think thats what a gardens for.

The celandine, a heart of gold. Its such a friendly little plant. And walk right past a celandine Im sure you dont, Im sure you cant. The celandine, the surest sign that wintertime is at its end, a gorgeous springtime visitor no wonder its a gardeners friend. Whats lost to the frost? What isnt growing? Time to get going digging and hoeing.

Time to start planning what youll be sowing. Time for preparing now spring is springing. The weather is bringing a whole new beginning. Things are now budding, plants are renewing. Green tips are showing. Lots to be doing!

Springs out there painting, and busy shes been, dipping her brushes in more and more green.

Out there and painting for hour after hour. Shes now using yellow as daffodils flower. Her canvas is gorgeous, with touches of blue as high up above her the suns peeping through. Her palette keeps changing. Theres now lots of white. Snowdrops have blossomed, theyve sprung overnight.

Shes now done the cherry a cloud of pale pink. A fabulous painting. You stand back and blink. A consummate artist who captures the light, and never stops painting from morning til night. Of all natures artists not one can compare for lifting ones spirits with colour out there.

Some flowers have a special art of talking, reaching to your heart.

No words are needed, but they speak. Its all part of their strange mystique. I think Id safely place a bet you cannot pass a violet without a pause, and some exchange. No gardener would find that strange. The very first spring daffodil upon the kitchen window sill will tell us that the winters gone, remind us that were moving on, as do snowdrops and the crocus beautiful communicators. The cherrys merry, also vain it tells us Look at me again! Its blossoms always say Hello! Please stay awhile, enjoy the show! Primroses have messages a chatty plant it always is, and understandably quite vain inviting us to look again.

Lots of plants are garrulous they speak and they reach out to us. Listening, when we get the chance is part of understanding plants and part of what all gardening is. So many plants have messages.

Today I am cross while scraping the moss. No wonder Im feeling so snappy. Theres so much to clear a load of it here.

A gardener cant always feel happy! Im cross with the moss and now at a loss while looking at loads more to do. The time that Im taking to do all that raking my goodness, how fast it regrew! This isnt much fun. Four sack-loads are done. And still there are more steps to clear. Im fed up with clearing, moss keeps reappearing. And finish the job? Nowhere near!

Dear Primrose, you so suit your name.

So prim, but pretty, all the same. So sweet, so neat, a tidy plant. Think of a better name? I cant. The Prima Rosa thats nice too the name the Romans chose for you. Dear Primrose, both names people chose, so suit your primness and your rose.

Time to drain out half the water and get our garden ponds together now that all the ice has thawed and suddenly its better weather.

Time to pull out blanket weed (the plant that makes our ponds so green) but leave in all the water snails that help us keep the water clean. Lots of thick green sludge to budge. So heavy are the plastic sacks, and lifting them a daunting task thats not too good for older backs. At last the waters clear and clean. That filthy task is done at last. The sacks are out (and maybe backs) exactly as in springtimes past.

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