much of gardening is a struggle against the fecundity of Nature.
in February there is everything to hope for and nothing to regret.
Winter sunshine is a fairy wand touching everything with a strange magic. It is like the smile of a friend in time of sorrow.
New words are always being born and old ones fading away.
It has been said that the only reason for leaving England is to give yourself the pleasure of coming back to it.
I thought I had finished with romantic adventures, but half-way through life and well past the age for losing one's heart, I was suddenly swept off my feet by a new love, a passionate, tyrannical, all-absorbing emotion: the love of a garden.