Troy and destroy

John Bell was the speaker on Thought for the Day this morning. He came on immediately after someone salivating over the prospect of life on Mars. John reminded us that "Adam" meant "earthling", and that the earth does not belong to us, but we belong to it - by decree of its maker.

You feel this when kneeling on warm soil to plant garlic and onions, as I have been doing in this lovely spell of mild weather. Softneck Thermidrome garlic this year, and 500g of Troy onion sets - netted against the birds, who enjoy tweaking the sets out of the soil.

I was slow to fix the mesh tightly round our sprouting plantlets earlier, and the result is a plague of caterpillars. It's either I who go into destroy mode, or they who remain in it.

The Autumn raspberries don't look up to much either, but the late Summer canes (seven foot tall in some cases) are still fruiting plentifully. As are the beans and Caroline's tomatoes and figs. She even presented me with her first melon the other evening.

The back lawn is littered with apples, and both lawns are also littered with rose and other prunings: we need more room in the deep freeze for juice and a couple more brown bins.

I photographed these onions this time last year on our visit to the National Botanic Garden of Wales.

National Botanic Garden of Wales

We enjoyed visiting this magnificent garden in May six years ago - not so long after it opened. Today, we called in again, on our way back from Pembroke, and found it altogether more filled out. And of course the colours were this time those of (almost) Autumn.

The double walled garden is I think my favourite spot, with its Tropical House now looking particularly sensational - so many weird and wonderful specimens. (This is a leaf of Alocasia macrorrhiza.)

I feel so totally ignorant about plants when I visit a place like this.

Tenby

I must have been all of six years old when we went on holiday to Saundersfoot, my grandmother too. Was it then that the car broke down en route? I rather think so, but I can hardly claim to remember much: the steep drop from the town of nearby Tenby to its beaches was however vaguely familiar.

Today, five of us went on something of a ruin crawl - Lamphey, Manorbier, Tenby and Carew: we didn't really explore Tenby a great deal, but I guess its castle counts as a ruin. By contrast, St Mary's Church there looks very much up together, with some terrific memorials and monuments.

At lunch we were encumbered with dogs: when we had at length found a pub with a garden I then made the mistake of not choosing fresh fish - a wasted opportunity, when we are so seldom near the sea. After three fine days, we were caught in a shower this afternoon, but only a brief one: September is definitely the month for holidaying this year.

Nolton Haven

My cliff walk this morning began at Newgale, South of St David's. Having struggled in vain to find a way up from the South end of Newgale Sands (it's steep, the rocks are slippy and what looked like solid enough handholds had a disconcerting tendency to give way), I covered rather more ground than seemed likely just looking at the map. And it's very much up and down.

So, by the time I reached the Mariners Inn at Nolton Haven, I was ready for lunch. The trouble was that the others were further on, at the splendid Druidstone Hotel. But lo and behold, to my rescue came the Puffin Shuttle! Driving that bus must require more patience than on any schedule I can think of, so narrow and steep is its route.

After lunch I retraced my steps a short way in order - much to Caroline's embarrassment - to have a snoop round Bob Marshall Andrews' troglodyte ecohouse, "Malator". It's been there 14 years, nesting in the coastal hillside - no garden, but what a view!

Monkton

For the third year, we are on half a week's holiday with friends in a Landmark, this time Monkton Old Hall. 14th Century, and with a penitential spiral staircase (for those of average height or more), it has the most spectacular views over Pembroke Castle.

I've brought my bike, and went exploring early this morning. Monkton village, quite distinct from its larger neighbour, was gutted in the 'Sixties, and a horrid Council estate superseded what would now be seen as Pembrokeshire quaint. In the main street, one shop alone survives, BJ's Stores, and this oxymoronic fish and chippery.

Autumn (still)

It was six weeks ago that I posted signs of Autumn colouring - at Westonbirt. With the mild weather we've had, it still seems - from the trees in our garden - to be Autumn even now in late November. Roses are blooming: snapdragon and geranium phaeum are still in flower. Meanwhile, the Christmas lights are on and the Promenade is full of tawdry German Marketeers. One of them pointed out a bat yesterday, asleep on the tree trunk just behind his hut.

The Film Society offering this evening was Patagonia, with great landscape photography veering between Argentina in the Autumn and Wales in Springtime: it brought to mind the visual shock I experienced at this time of year in 2003, flying away from our soft Autumnal colours in order to land amidst vibrant reds and blues in South Island, New Zealand.

Golden day

Today, we drove over Severn and Wye, through Ross, to the Southern end of the Golden Valley, for a Golden Wedding anniversary feast. The countryside, especially across into Wales, looked majestic, a perfect match for the lunch and indeed the day generally. The only sadness was the absence of two of the children - now (with their own families) based in Australia and Canada respectively, such is the way of the world.

As with the best of such occasions, it was an eclectic mix that our hosts had brought together, half friends (some who had attended the wedding), half their marvellous extended family. (It was a job to drag the youngest from the trampoline for a photograph.)

I first knew them when they had barely been married ten years, and so have watched the children grow into their own parenthood: indeed, some of the grandchildren are old enough to be parents themselves.

Tasting Wales

Today, we went to Presteigne, just over the border from Herefordshire. Indeed, from the back garden of Emily's Tearooms and Restaurant, England is about a no. 3 wood away. As often happens, you go for a light lunch, and end up with too large a plateful - particularly when you aren't yet 30 months old.

Presteigne has a lot going for it: an excellent bread/cakes shop; one selling beautiful materials and local woollen products; second hand bookshops, and another with an interesting range of new books; a vibrant music festival (Michael Berkeley lives near); a 500-year-old Flemish tapestry in the church; the award-winning Judge's Lodging museum (though museum is too weak a word for it), and some attractive houses set in wild and wonderful countryside. Oh yes, and it's a Transition Town.