In the Dingly Dell

That's what we call the bottom our garden - heavy irony, it is very steep, shady and boggy and could be home to the National Collections of creeping buttercup, nettles and the rest.  At one time there was a well, it is marked on old maps. But now there's no sign of it, I think it was probably filled in with rubble and subsoil when the house was built.

I'm always a bit aware that there might be a big hole beneath me when I'm working down there.  But so far the ground hasn't given way.

I did get a bit of a surprise when I hauled away a great tangle of goose grass (which I called 'sticky willies' in my childhood, and that got me some odd looks when we lived down south) - and found a sort of Beatrix Potter world inside a rotten tree stump.  Thousands of tiny parachutists looking poised to leap into the abyss below? I don't think I've found the well yet.