When we bought the cottage, our plan was to get back to Scotland early enough to tackle the garden while everything was still asleep for the winter. We missed that window. The bramble had other plans.
By the time we arrived, the front garden had become a jungle. Not the tropical, Instagram-worthy kind. The aggressive, thorny, Scottish kind. The sort of garden that fights back when you try to clear it and wins the first few rounds.
Why the front garden had to go
Our cottage was built around 1800. Which means it was built before cars existed. Which means there is no parking. The front garden sits between the cottage and the road, and without clearing it, there was literally nowhere to park, nowhere to unload building materials, and no practical way to access the cottage for renovation work.
Before anyone comes at us for ripping out plants: it was necessary. We kept what we could. But a parking pad wasn't optional. It was survival.
What we found underneath
This is the part that made it all worth it.
Under the bramble, we found a hydrangea bush. A stone wall we didn't know existed. Old lawn chairs from who knows what decade. Posts for a washing line. And at least six trees we had no idea we owned, including what might genuinely be the world's tallest apple tree. It's absurd. It's taller than the cottage. I don't know how it got that way or how we didn't see it before, but there it is, towering over everything like it's been waiting for us to notice.
Calvin was fascinated by the stone wall. He spent an afternoon tracing the mortar lines with his fingers and asking questions about who built it and when. Millie was more interested in the bramble berries. She ate so many her fingers were stained purple for two days.
The back garden
Tearing out the front was necessary. Clearing the back was a choice. As each section was uncovered, we stood there dreaming about what the space could become. A vegetable garden. A play area. A patio with a view of the water (because yes, you can see the sea from the back garden, and no, I will never get tired of saying that).
The bramble berries were everywhere back there too. We snacked our way through the clearing, which made the work feel less like labor and more like foraging. The kids helped in bursts. Calvin was genuinely useful with the smaller tools. Millie contributed enthusiasm and approximately four minutes of actual work before finding a stick she liked better than any gardening tool.
What comes next
The garden is cleared. It looks bare now, which is a little jarring after the wild overgrowth, but it's full of possibility. We can see the bones of the property for the first time. The stone walls, the natural contours of the land, the way the light moves across the space in the afternoon.
We're not rushing to fill it. One of the things this life has taught us is that empty space isn't wasted space. It's space that's waiting to tell you what it wants to be. So we'll listen. We'll plant some things in the spring. We'll see what grows.
In the meantime, the apple tree is still standing. Tallest thing on the property. A survivor, like the cottage itself.
