gardeners world

Baby faced Lady Muck enjoying a summer’s day in the family garden 1970

Launching a book about all things green is a little bitter sweet when the two people who inspired me, are no longer around. All I wanted, when my proofs arrived last week, was to share my joy with those two special people: my Mum and Dad. But instead, I headed out into the garden with a cuppa, sat on my mum’s old bench and let myself take a little trip down memory lane. You see, whilst Dad is the reason I am obsessed with growing cabbages and cauliflowers, it’s Mum who got me into roses and rhododendrons.

She absolutely loved gardening. Her happy place? The verdant kingdom where she reigned supreme in her mucky wellies. Getting her inside was like persuading a cat to take a bath. Her garden was breathtakingly beautiful. With roses that would make Chelsea Flower Show sigh with envy, a lawn so green it looked like it was pinched from Wimbledon, and lavender bushes that made our house smell like Provence on a sunny day. Although as a kid whose summer holidays were spent mostly in caravans in Great Yarmouth or Northumbria, I wouldn’t really know that ‘til many years later!

While most mums were the ones calling in their kids at dinnertime, our house was the other way round. Often, Dad would joke about having to send out another search party - with whoever leading it, head-torch on, invariably finding her deep in conversation somewhere with a peony bush, or one of her favourite trees. That large garden, nestled near the border with Epping Forest, was her pride and joy. A place where she could forget her hard London childhood, when her parents were more worried about where the next meal was coming from, than whether there were flowers on the table. She created that garden for her family. She created that garden so we could run free. She created that garden so we would grow up with a lifelong love for nature. It was our playground, our sanctuary, and an endless source of adventure.

So, it’s no wonder that her passion rubbed off on me as the years went by.

Nowadays, I find myself pottering about in my own garden, whispering words of encouragement to my own flowers, just as I often watched her do to hers. Though my roses look more like rebellious teenagers than the regal queens she nurtured. But I hope that somewhere, she’s looking down on me, in her muddy wellies, smiling and cheering me on.

So, here’s to you, Mum - Lady Muck Senior - who taught me that gardening is as much about the journey as the blooms.