The Out-Of-Door Antigen - Feel The Raw Naked Freddy Of The Road.

Swinging in the lovely garden

When my grandmother ended up in a nursing home she never returned to her beautiful garden again. It was a big open garden with lush borders and surrounded by a spectacular stone wall. When I was really little there was a wooden swing that my grandpa had made from a potato box, suspended by wire from a beam. For every pace it would make a creaking noise. There were lots of oldfashioned plants in the garden, like fox glove and fragrant white roses with a powdery scent. She always had an abundance of butterflies there.