bonds of Earth. And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings”. So run the opening lines of the poem by World War Two fighter pilot John Gillespie McGee. It set me thinking, not only about the fact that Mr McGee must have had little time for gardening (the surly bonds of weeding must have palled in the face of higher objectives) but also to identify those moments in my garden when the view before me, or the action
