Born in England to a family of gardeners and botanists, I was lucky enough to be indoctrinated into the “all life is about the garden group” since birth. From making mud pies to weeding the allotment, picking apples and taking Pelargonium cuttings, my childhood revolved around the rituals of the changing seasons. Strawberries in June that you relished so much more because they were a once a year treat.
Life in a little Kentish village was quiet but not boring. We went on walks down the lanes and across the footpaths. We visited our grandparents in the next village for Sunday tea. We drove around the countryside, four of us squished into the back seat of a tiny car- no seat belts back then. I, being the oldest and biggest, usually managed to get a window seat, all the better to see out of the window at the passing fruit trees on “The Blossom Route” in spring, or to see the pretty little churches and cottages in the surrounding villages.
Even from a young age I was very nosey, but also observant.I knew where clumps of wild flowers were and my father helped me to learn their names in English and Latin. It really is sort of cheating, but I feel so grateful to have been taught so much as a child. My parents instilled me with a curiosity about the world around me. I must have been hard work as a child- so many questions. But I continue to love questions. If you have any gardening questions, feel free to email me and if I can help you I will answer on the blog.