The secret lies in the fact that a teeny tiny, paved over urban plot - which could so easily be overlooked or ignored - can be coaxed into producing the most marvellous flowers with enough time, care, and love.
This is my mantelpiece last year - four little vases, brimming with home-grown flowers. Buddleia, sweet peas, fuchsia, and many different shades of David Austin roses. I can't tell you how proud I am to be able to decorate my house with home-grown blooms.
More than that, I guess that *all* gardens contain secrets and mysteries. Earth is a powerful, mysterious thing. I have a morning ritual of checking on my plants each morning before I start my commute, seeing if any need a top up with a watering can, and marvelling at how they have developed little by little each day. How do they know what to do? How is it possible that all of the beauty of sweet peas can be crammed into a handful of tiny seeds? My garden makes me remember the turning of the seasons, helps me appreciate the rain and be grateful for the sun. I adore it.
Do you have a garden (or even just a sunny windowsill)? I'd love to hear about it.
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