What feels like many a moon ago, Ed Harrison walked me round his garden path donning a pair of overalls, spade and a wheelbarrow. We were working on a magazine article together covering gardening. During the lockdown period, Ed returned to his parents home, spending most of his time growing vegetables. Knowing that Ed will always choose to be close to family and nature, he was the obvious choice for this project.

Ed’s garden is otherworldly, migrating swallows return to the garages every year, usually announced by Ed’s excited father Kim. Bluebells span the woodland surrounding his studio. And a horse chestnut tree, some 30 years old, planted from a conker by Ed and his father, still stands strong. There’s something to this place. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but it envelopes you. The air is often thick with a classic welsh mist, the type that clings to you, soaking every fibre of your clothing with its scent.

As Ed fills his wheel barrow with manure, he recalls a memory of how he and his brothers once built a make shift skatepark a few feet away from where we stand, finally answering how the prominent scar on his elbow came to be.

After taking a moment to stretch out his back he proceeds to give the overflowing wheel barrow a shove and starts walking.

We follow the winding path through ancient woodland leading us out behind the house, a picturesque landscape dotted with bird feeders and now sodden turf. The heavy wheel barrow slides against the gradient of the ground underfoot, exposing the rich clay like soil. Still following, we pass through a dense laurel hedge into the vegetable patch.

Calling this place a vegetable patch is an understatement. There are multiple beds made from reclaimed railway sleepers. Smaller beds nestle up beside them - as if to seek additional shelter, despite the fabric covers resting atop the willow arches above. The surrounding ground is stone covered, providing a satisfying crunch and respite from the mud. All of this hidden from view by the tree’s that hug the perimeter and tall grasses which Ed explains is his recent contribution to “No Mow May”. A similar endeavour to Movember, but focused on green spaces to benefit pollinators and local wildlife.

As Ed loads the beds with manure, we discuss the magazine article. He explains how his father, had been showing him the ropes on veg growing. Kim being the green fingered veteran had been working this patch for time, saving seeds ready for the following year and taking immense pride in cooking his produce for guests. Always paired with a good bottle and excellent music choices.

Whenever I have visited the garden, that welsh mist I mentioned above is ever present. With it comes a certain type of light that I’ll never be able to explain. It’s a light that only presents itself when shooting with Ed.

It’s ludicrously soft but maintains deep shadows and glowing highlights. Editing the images shot here always feels bizarre. Almost as if the garden has tried to influence what/how I’m shooting. Call me credulous, but I think there’s something to that.

I first experienced this light whilst Ed picked some beans for dinner after we’d spent the day shooting surf imagery for The Goodwash Company.

This was followed by a good chat with Kim who’d kindly put together a veg box with Ed that I’d later cook for my family.

Ed picking beans during my first visit to the garden.

That light and mist was present again when I visited most recently to shoot Ed’s latest works. As with any visit, we dropped by the garden so he could show me its progress. This time, we were joined by his partner JB and the family dog Monty, both legends in their own right and a pleasure to spend time with.

This visit brought with it a feeling of deep connection, almost as though multiple time lines were crossing over.

It was in this garden where I first met Kim. Where he and Ed would share their knowledge. It was where Ed invited me to join, Under The Skin (A project by both him and his Brother James) in San Francisco to debut their movie The Last Vaquita. San Francisco was Kim’s favourite city where he honeymooned with Ed’s mum Jane. It was during our San Francisco trip that Kim sadly passed.

Now, a year later, we are back in the garden and it’s flourishing. Pausing to take it all in, I watch Ed & JB put hands to soil in order to harvest their crop. With their trusty dog by their side, they look happy. Together they are keeping Kim’s legacy alive, both figuratively and literally. This shoot felt like a huge milestone. So much has changed and continues to change, yet here we are, in the veg garden once again, shooting another collection of images vastly outweighing everything else we’d shot that day… at least in my opinion.

As the mist turned to a downpour, JB & Monty took refuge in doors, leaving Ed and I to put the world to rights. We spoke of Kim and how Ed felt most connected to him whilst in the garden. He shared his plans to keep the growing going as long as possible in his honour. Kim’s presence is still felt in the garden, his considerate nature entwined within the seeds he had kept, now fully fledged plants thanks to his son. His departure left a huge hole in everyones lives, though, thanks to his efforts in passing down knowledge, his family have started filling that space with something he would be very proud of.

Linking back to the times both Ed and I have shared here, we laughed that we’d unknowingly documented a timeline of hardship & triumph;

From literally shovelling shit to harvesting a successful crop as the first swallows return home.

I hope you enjoy the images below, they are incredibly close to my heart.

Till next time

A x