I was once a rather different person. An avid bookworm, I could spend a full weekend absorbed in someone else’s world. More academic than practical, and much more a dreamer and thinker than a doer… This was who I was. And I still am that dreamer but since I was fortunate enough to acquire my first ever garden I realised practicality was a valuable skill to have if I wanted results. My garden is not large nor perfect. I have had a lot of help with it (thanks Dad and Simon!) especially during the bog years… And it has taken a long time to get to a point where I know what I want and what I want to do. Five years to be precise.
My love of all things connected to nature started with childhood walks with my dog Snoopy through woodland near my home. I lost interest in nature in my teens yet I would still love being around trees, plants and flowers. In my 20s, I always preferred rented accommodation with a garden to look out to or somewhere scenic nearby. I turned 30 and discovered house plants, a gerbera was my first. And then one day I realised, despite protests to the contrary from my earlier self, it was time to put down my own roots. And so I had my little patch of land – decking, a tiny boggy lawn, bamboo bed, two raised beds, stone borders. At the side of the house was a wild area of unknown weeds, a random ‘Christmas tree’, a derelict, falling-apart wooden shed and stones, lots of them.
My first ever garden.