‘Of course you were.’ She didn’t seem pleased or displeased at this news.
‘I was wondering if you have any gardening books. I don’t think you have internet here?’
‘I do at the gatehouse. I like theNew York TimesWordle. I’m on a seventy-four-day streak,’ she stated proudly.
‘Okay,’ said Simon. ‘Well done, I guess.’ Was he supposed to celebrate this? It was hard to know with Diana. He couldn’t read her.
Diana kept walking, clearly expecting him to keep up.
‘Come to the house. I’ll give you some of the original plans for the garden from William Robinson.’
‘Who is that?’
‘The garden designer, Robinson – do you not know his work?’ Diana seemed disappointed in him, as though this was a name that should be instantly recognizable when one thought of garden design.
‘No, I don’t. Sorry, I don’t know much about gardens,’ he admitted. ‘But it’s nothing I can’t learn.’
‘I have a book on him also, so I will share that with you so you can understand his thought process and approach to gardens.’
Bees and other insects seemed to be everywhere, feeding off the flowers that remained, and as they walked to the house Diana pointed out some butterflies.
‘Tortoiseshells there. That’s a comma. The ones on the bluebells are orange tips. If we’re lucky we might see a holly blue as they come in spring but we will get a second generation in summer.’
Simon looked at her amazed. ‘Are you a butterfly collector? I can’t remember the proper name for them.’
‘A lepidopterist,’ she said.
‘Yes, one of those.’ He nodded.
‘No, I am nothing really – not an expert in anything except knowing what is in this garden. The plants, the flowers, the bulbs and the bees, birds and butterflies.’
Simon smiled at her. ‘Then you’re a Moongate-ologist,’ he said and Diana laughed harder than he expected her to.
‘I like that. Yes, I am, but I’m hoping to hand it to someone who also wants to be a Moongate-ologist.’
‘What are all the vines?’ he asked as they passed the plants in question. The stems seemed to have many leaves, with long thin tendrils reaching out for support.
‘It’s all wisteria,’ she said. ‘Purple, pink and white but the pink and white are not as greedy as the purple. Her fingers are everywhere. The thin tendrils are whips. I cut them off – they’re so demanding.’
‘Is the wisteria a problem?’ he asked.
‘Do you mean should you pull it out?’ She kept walking towards the manor.
‘Yes, I guess so.’
‘I wouldn’t. Some people believe that wisteria over a gateway is a portal to another world, which is why it’s mixed with the roses over the moon gate. Also it’s lovely. It just needs some diversion and controlling guidance.’
Simon was intrigued. ‘Why did you plant the wisteria with the roses? From a meaning perspective?’
‘Well, roses are planted near graves to protect the souls from evils spirits. So if you’re planning to enter a portal to another world, it’s probably best you don’t have any evil hitch-hikers.’ Diana laughed.
Simon joined in as he looked back at the moon gate in the distance.
‘It is a bit like being in another world here,’ he said. ‘My mother is a historian. She loves symbology and meaning in nature and so on. She would love all of this.’
‘You should invite her to visit,’ said Diana. ‘There is so much history here.’
Simon pondered the thought, wondering how his eccentric mother would manage at Moongate, but he knew it would never happen. He wasn’t staying; he was only here for the summer.
