I am a psychologist, writer, sweet pea obsessive and gardener based in Somerset. My work explores the psychological importance of seasonal changes in the garden, and the quiet rituals of growing.
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An essay on October. This instalment of my journal documents the chill that has started to creep over the flowers. Join me in my garden at Malus Farm as we start to slow down and reflect on the exquisite balance of nourishment.
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In pursuit of excellence in sweet pea growing, I stumble upon the National Society of Sweet Peas. Join me in this world of affionados and
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September at Malus Farm brims with blackberries, falling apples, secret damsons, and a storm that blushes roses pink. From squash rosti to surprise blossoms, join me in a garden alive with abundance, mystery, and a spaniel on the forage.
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Rain-splattered sweet peas, wild meadow paths, and stolen moments in hot hammock. Join me for a week of chaotic beauty in an English cottage garden where perfection is considered significantly overrated and self-seeders rule.
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This week has been one for hiding indoors. The beginning of the week too hot even for gentle hoeing. The end of the week brought thunderstorms and downpours. The week that had everything, including dilemmas about weeding, some beautiful light, and the perennial question: tidy hedges or happy bees?
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Gardens are battlegrounds of tradition and change, where regenerative principles challenge the tidy ideals of the past. This is a story of messy beauty, quiet rebellions, and finding the courage to embrace untamed wonder - even under a critical gaze
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Summer's sweet pea perfume fills the air while disappointing plants teach hard lessons. With opium poppies setting seed and bees humming their happiness, I find solace in using my incidental harvests for cake.
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Why does my own garden feel like a to-do list but someone else's feels like paradise? The Potager taught me that gardens are more than the weeding and the watering, and that there are deeper lessons to be found in this most special of places.
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The air hangs heavy with heat, and I garden only at the ends of the day. And yet, in the dappled hedge, the squirrels are quietly at work, burying hazelnuts and sowing tomorrow’s nuttery with reckless abandon.
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A little lateral thinking and suddenly, the secret to a happy life is clear, and it is found in the garden. The joy of growth, celebration of beauty, and waiting for the buds to burst into the glorious blossom of spring. All it takes? A little love.