Sweets for my sweets. Sugar for my honey.
Monday 17th February. I finish work and drive to London. It is always further than I think. The air changes, and the light. More people. More movement. Less mud. I am booked for a proper studio recording for the Hope & Patience podcast.
Tuesday 18 February. I am rarely early for anything. On time, but rarely early. But when there is a studio slot booked for one, one is not to risk being at all late. The downside of this is by the time I am interviewed, I have drunk far too much strong coffee. The upside is that I have time to have a look round Liberty’s and I discover that they have the same tiles as my studio. This feels like a good omen.
Whenever I am asked to introduce myself formally I have to interrupt my habit of taking the oath. This is not cross-examination though, it is lovely. A chat. A chat in a strangely padded room. I admit that I am a dyed in the wool workaholic and I see no hope of recovery. We talk about success and failure and I try hard not to talk in cliches. Some of the questions take me completely by surprise.
The adrenaline afterwards propels me across town. I battle through Soho and across Shaftesbury Avenue to Covent Garden. Familiar back streets and cut-throughs by stage back doors. Crowds and lanes. Memories. Despite the people, I walk so much faster in London. I reach Petersham Nurseries. I have given up buying things for the decade* and it is liberating to just look. I go round and round, looking at the textures, the combinations, the design. Yellow Gorse is there and La-Eva, and I feel vicarious pride. The lens through which I view the world has changed. I started my business to fund my love of beautiful things, but as I stood in that beautiful place, I see the people behind the things, the passion and creativity, the love and the work. The things are just things.
I can’t help thinking my seeds would have looked pretty perfect there though.
* when I mention this on instagram stories, there was some consternation. A whole decade? I am still buying food, although the aim is to be as self-sufficient as possible in the Summer months. I haven’t decided what I will do when my candles run out, but I am finding it blissfully easy to just not think about buying any stuff. We have everything that we need, plus a lot more. Enough is enough.
Wednesday 19th February. Did I mention that buying things for the business was exempt? I do an assessment in Plymouth and then stop at Catherine Water’s new antique shop in Ashburton on the way home. I leave with a beautiful shallow dish for planting up with bulbs. (Yes, the one featured by both Fox & Dahlia and The Wild Wood Moth.)
I would also have left with a huge wire cloche lapin if a) it would have fitted in my car and b) it wasn’t already sold.
If you are in the area, I highly recommend a visit…
Thursday 20th February. Hellebores are starting to really find their feet. I have moved them every year for about five years; my landscape design lacks foresight and there is nowhere obvious for them to go. They are in amongst the biennial bed at the end of the kitchen garden. Shady, but I don’t think the soil is quite right. This is a terrible picture because it was raining and I didn’t want my camera to get wet. It feels like it has been raining for ever.
Saturday 22nd February. The trickle of Spring orders has turned to a flood. Piggy Sue is back up on the website, along with some new varieties of sweet peas. Hugo and I camp out at the kitchen table, parceling up orders, sticking, stamping, wrapping, alternating tea with coffee and occasionally wine. For the podcast interview, I was asked about scaling. It turns out I am not a proper businessperson after all; I just can’t let go. I do everything, and I do it mostly by hand. The seeds are packed with a teaspoon by me, the envelopes printed by me, and sealed by me. I appreciate that it means that this business stays absolutely tiny, but I just cannot let go. And I think I am ok with that.
[If you want to proof read my writing, work on my SEO, weed my matrix planting, or organise my photos, then that is an entirely different matter. Please get in touch…]
Sunday 23rd February. Whilst the compost heaps have their fronts added, a day of sowing sweet peas. Remember, they need a bit of heat to get going, but not a lot. Roger Parsons who knows everything there is to know about sweet peas, says around 10 degrees is best. This means they don’t necessarily need a heated propagator or anything clever, just a warm room indoors. He says they don’t like bottom heat but I have great results putting them on the cooker for 48 hours, even though I can’t cook for a weekend. I have an unheated greenhouse which gets too cold at night, the warmth needs to be quite constant. Once the seeds are germinated, get them away from the heat and maximise light. Windowsills, unless very open and south facing (mine are neither), rarely get enough light for really strong seedlings, and sweet peas will run fast to leggy unless they are grown on hard. Put them outside if you don’t have a greenhouse or cold frame.
I don’t direct sow, ever. Unless you have a mice and vole free garden, it just isn’t worth it. For the record, Mr P also says don’t soak them. They do need the seed coating to soften a bit though, so make sure your compost doesn’t dry out too much.
