I must be getting old. Or perhaps it is just that I am becoming more aware of what is around me. It is still a miracle that anything grows for me. I find the fact that vegetables are produced from seeds still extraordinary. Never mind that I can eat it. I will never forget my first vegetable garden; carrots, beetroot and peas. So so exciting. And the same excitement grips me when I look at my flower bed. Weeding on my hands and knees brings me up close and personal with what grows there. Grasses in particular stand up well to close examination. Their seed heads can be outrageously beautiful. And there is nothing that is quite so beautiful as the sight of a field of barley being ruffled by the wind. Here Stipa Tenuissima (or as I call it, the ‘fine hair’ grass) looks beautiful either on its own, or with lavender which is planted here in the foreground. The Salvia East Friedland looks wonderful with a white Lychnis, or as it is more commonly and romantically called the White Rose Campion, as a backdrop. I don’t know why this plant is not used more; it is quite beautiful. Perhaps it is just that after such a long and hard winter spring seems even more precious and blowsy than usual.
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