My ground is still and cold. I’m sitting indoors, amongst a pile of books, scraps of pages torn out of magazines, half drawn sketches and an array of pictures of country gardens, cutting patches and herb-filled courtyards. One of the hardest parts of growing anything happens inside, before I’ve even touched the earth, the plotting and the planning, paths and priorities. Although now, waiting for Spring, with hope and endless possibilities, it doesn’t feel hard. I dream of meadows and potagers and artful hazel wigwams. Waiting for Spring, I feel like anything and everything is possible. It takes a few years of growing to know that meadows only look perfect for maybe weeks at a time, that the best kitchen gardens don’t actually produce any vegetables because it leaves ugly gaps in the rows. That anyone can make a garden look rosy in June.
I’m taking the time between now and 1 March 2019 to re-design and re-plant the whole field. This means that the shop will be shut so we can concentrate on this, as well as curating more collections (I’m hoping for one called ‘inky’, but this is ambitious) and some other rather exciting projects. I will still be on Instagram every day, still blogging, and I’m resolved to start sending newsletters. All the behind the scenes action will be documented in the newsletter, so do sign up if you would like to see the gritty reality of winter in a flower field and to know what’s coming when Spring finally arrives.
Have a very lovely Christmas & happy New Year.