Finding The Story In A Cornish Garden.

Cornwall is like another country, with its wild coastline, turquoise seas, subtropical gardens, estuaries and creeks, its dampness and warmth. Then there’s its belief in the sustainable and renewable, its wonderful locally sourced and organic food, its generous celebration of the arts.

We had a great trip around Trebah guided by the lovely Dan a former Assistant Head Gardener. He and Peter converted the seriously stylish but homely barn we stayed in, (highly recommended) as well as rescuing the nearby garden now known as The Potager (ranks as one of my favourite gardens ever) and a dog called Obie.

Everywhere we went people were friendly and relaxed – they had time. But as always, everywhere we went, I was looking for the story. I found it at the bottom ofTrebah Graden on the beach where 7,500 of the 29th US Infantry Division embarked for the assault on Omaha beach, where many died. Like stories do, it played around in my head and connected with a beautiful blog post I’d read by Theresa Evangeline  from Minnesota,  about picking grapes. Then I found some names and the story began. It’s still in first draft in my notebook.

Here’s the beginning…

Growing Grapes In Minnesota

Alice Trego knew the chances of Duke Maynard turning up after sixty seven years were probably about the same as her making a decent return from Ladbrooke’s on a Super Yankee Special. What she hadn’t bargained for was Marvin Spinoza.

Every year the Major held a service on the beach and every year Alice attended, even though Roger had been dead twelve years. The nearest Sunday to June Ist Alice was there along with the decreasing number of those who remembered. They were mostly gone now, probably Duke with them, if he hadn’t died a lifetime ago. But something, other than common sense, told Alice he hadn’t died. Something made her cling to the notion that Duke Maynard had survived and that he was seeing out his time growing grapes in Minnesota, just like he always said he would…