The glass doors looked out on Constable Moore's garden, a riot of 
geraniums, foxtails, wisteria, and corgi droppings. On the other side of a 
small khaki-colored pool rose a small garden house. Like this one, it was built 
from blocks of reddish-brown stone and roofed with rough-edged slabs of 
green-gray slate. Constable Moore himself could be descried behind a screen of 
somewhat leggy rhododendrons, hard at work with a shovel, continually harassed 
by the ankle-biting corgis.