When The Seed Was Planted

I don't recall seeing many photographs of my grandparents' garden or rose bushes. When I was seven I didn't realize that the plunge of my hand into a metal tin filled with cool, grainy bird seed or my grandfather, a teacher, lifting the tarp on the compost heap with an explanation on decay would somehow become a memory that I would call upon as inspiration at the age of 27.

These days I am cultivating a nascent "green thumb" which I believe is rooted in these early experiences and is also an attempt to keep my dear grandparents alive in my memory. The mental images may be faded and blurred around the edges but I will make new ones which are vivid and distinct! I am lucky because presently in the UK there is a glut of media attention being paid to growing your own vegetables and making simple and beautiful food using your own home grown ingredients. I am a novice at best yet already there is so much joy to be found in watching my little plants grow!

I am starting small, being restricted in terms of climate (living in an exposed and hilly spot) and time (with commuting to a full-time job and renovating the stone barn we are living in) but with enthusiasm I am nursing some herbs along into what will hopefully become my own little aromatic herb garden!

Even this morning when I came down downstairs, before even turning on the kettle for a "cuppa" I felt it necessary to check the progress of my seedlings, wondering if they might be thirsty or if today they would lodge a request to move to a sunnier post.

Here are my little ones about a week ago, some thyme and lemon balm.



Onwards and Upwards may they go!

Laura