To walk around a midwinter garden on a fine day when everything has shrunk down to its essential elements is like walking around a gallery. You can take your time, see things with fresh eyes and be ch

An old man lives at the bottom of my garden. His name is Robert Barkus, or Bakehouse, or Bagust. Nobody is quite sure. But I often sense him around when I’m gardening, and I’ve found out a fair bit ab

Paul Hill considers…

Kerry James Marshall, ‘poised between narrative and allegory’

Between a Constable resonating with Nature and a Castiglione blaring with turbulence, a picture by Algernon Newton captured the quietude of absolute stillness

Plundering a local byway for a spot of festive foraging, John Lewis-Stempel finds all life proliferating in the multitudinous micro-habitat of the winter hedgerow