It’s only the beginning of spring really, despite the last few lovely weeks (raining now!), and south London isn’t exactly chock-full of wildflower meadows, but this is close, and kind of more joyous, because I made it myself.
A good while ago now, Shelley and I went to Versailles. And it was appropriately amazing, over the top, excessive – all the usual things – but the most glorious part was a wildflower meadow. No doubt that meadow was as created as the rest of the glorious artifice, but it was wild as well. Since then, Shelley wanted a wildflower garden of our own – a bit tricky in a small south London terrace – and yet, now we have one.
It’s our little front garden right on a very busy road, it’s definitely not accidentally wild, and what is wild has been planted around perennials and biennials with a load of scattered seeds (many more of them still to do their thing). I’ve no doubt it will look a right mess in a few months, but just now, as it’s beginning to come into its own, it’s a joy. As our friend Julia says, even a tiny a front garden can be a gift to the street. So it’s our joy and, hopefully, a joy for others too.