My love of flowers and seasonal beauty has been nurtured by my family. My great grandad worked as a market gardener and florist and always wore a flower in his button hole where ever he went. My passion for flowers feels part of my genetic make-up.
My family taught me to see the natural beauty of each season. As a child we made special trips to see the first snowdrops and then Spring primroses.
I remember a deserted cottage surrounded by primroses in the woods. I dreamed of living there when I grew up, being self-sufficient and having a wonderful English cottage garden full of flowers including delphiniums, hollyhocks and roses round the door. There would be freshly picked flowers on the table every day. My Uncle picked primroses as a gift for my mum from Clarendon Woods when she was born. In my mind the primrose was my mum’s flower and my mum handed down her knowledge of wildflowers to me. Whenever we went out for a country walk she would get me to learn the names of the flowers we saw.
Flowers to me evoke wonderful memories. The beautiful fragrance of my garden roses takes me back to days spent at Mottisfont gardens. Big, blowsy hydrangeas and vivid blue agapanthus remind me of Summer holidays in Devon and Cornwall. Autumn saw blackberry picking and country walks searching for chestnuts. I picked crab apples with my Uncle to make crab apple jelly bridal favours for my wedding. We always ended the year with a trip to the New Forest to hunt down holly with red berries for the Christmas pud.