The speed at which blossom season arrives, blows us away with its beauty, and then bids us farewell never fails to astound me. It’s the most intense two-week love affair of the year.
I love a simple sewing project. Something whereby the results belie the limited skill and knowledge that I actually possess. The desire to create is there but the time to practise, often not. Sitting down at a sewing machine makes me feel all creative but straight lines don’t come naturally to me and my dream of knocking up a chic little shift dress is potentially an unobtainable one.
Having lived the majority of my adult life in a city centre apartment with a small balcony and then in a new build house with only a marginally bigger outdoor space, it’s safe to say that my gardening skills are somewhat lacking. Even naming flowers is a stretch for me. Pretty? Yes. Identifiable? Hmm, not really.