"We have just moved to this beautiful part of Wales near the estuary of the Dyfi. Everywhere trees are unfolding each one of their leaves and flowers, gently and tenderly day by day, like this beech tree in our garden.

But there is power there, too, coming up from deep within the earth. How arrogant we are when we think we can cut ourselves off from these great forces, without becoming un-nourished and stunted ourselves.

Turning to the garden, which is my passion, I am tempted to rush in and impose my will on it, plant those shrubs and trees which appeal to me. But no, first I must observe what will flourish here, and find out what the soil is like.

There are different ways to do this: you can get a soil-testing kit for a few pounds which tells you the ph of the soil, that is how acid or alkaline it is. I have to order one from the local hardware-come-garden shop.

But in the meantime I already have many clues: rhododendrons and azaleas flourish here, and they like acid soil. Bluebells are dotted around everywhere and I will clump them under the trees to make a wooded walk.

And then in the grass, to which most of the garden is laid, I notice lots of cuckoo flower, and, true to their name, they open just as the cuckoo starts to sing her familiar song.

So all this area where I had hoped to plant fruit trees, is not only acid, but wet as well. Another time I will write about what can be done about such soil, but others may have ideas.

For me, the garden is like the psyche or self of a human being; for a person to flourish the first thing is to know what kind of soil they are made of, and there's nothing like just being still and quiet for a few minutes in the day to find out what makes one tick. So I follow this for myself, and continue to wait and watch in the garden."

Article written by Gillian Chalibi