And so farewell

For winter's rains and ruins are over,
And all the season of snows and sins;
The days dividing lover and lover,
The light that loses, the night that wins;
And time remembered is grief forgotten,
And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,

And in green underwood and cover
Blossom by blossom the spring begins.

- Algernon Charles Swinburne

Doing funeral flowers is always a tremendous honour. If ever there was a time to turn your back on sombre, formal flowers I really think a funeral is it. The flowers should be as natural, cheerful, scented and lovely as possible. Just breathing in the smell of all the narcissi above was enough to remind me that, no matter how bleak things are, Spring is just around the corner.

Thanks a bunch

Many thanks to the lovely Lorrainne who was kind enough to send me some of the professional photos taken of the flowers I did for her wedding. My photographic skills are pretty minimal, so it's always lovely to have photos that are in focus and don't have half my finger over the lens...

There's snow business like snow business

Ahhhhhhhh Valentine's day. What an excellent idea to have it in the middle of February. How thoughtful of St Valentine to have had his funeral on the 14th of February, when the joys of Christmas are over, the joys of Spring are still a long way off and the rigours of Lent are bearing down upon us. How convenient that we should have a day of love and chocolates and presents and flowers in the deep mid winter. And how nice for florists to have such a surge in customers at such a lean time! How jolly for florists who try to grow their own flowers to have such a massive selection of home grown delights to offer to the....oh no wait. I've got confused. I'm thinking of July. How terrifically un-jolly for those of us trying to grow things to have Valentine's Day thrust upon us when the snow is deep and crisp and even, and all I have to offer is a selection of sticks and twigs. My garden looks like Narnia, not a romantic Eden. Please see our our old roller below for proof...

I KNOW! It would be great if I made greetings cards and could whip out the old camera and take some lovely snowy photos before turning them into arty cards, but alas, flowers are my business, and apart from one lovely accidental pot of narcissus (I found them hiding at the back of the greenhouse, where the bulbs had been forgotten in an old plastic pot) and a few forced hyacinths, I aint got zip! I thought about doing pretty little pots of delicate bulbs, but the problem is you need to plant about 289473 to make sure you have at least some ready on the right date, and then there is no certainty that people will want them. It's not an excercise in low maintenance profit making.

Let's be honest, the majority of flower buyers on Valentine's day are men, and it's the only time of year when they Know What Flowers They Want, and they want them to be RED. It's red or nothing, so for me, it's nothing. Now of course I am a business woman as well as a gardener, so yes, I bought in some red roses. That's right, come get me eco-warriors, for truly I am one of THEM, I have gone over to the dark side, I...well, anyway, to cut a long story short sometimes in life you have to give people what they want, so that you have enough money to pay your bills, and there's no point in being a one trick pony. I added some scarlet anemones too, and wrapped them in black tissue, and you know what? They looked really sexy. If you're going to harm the environment, you might as well do it saucily, that's what I say.

I overheard two chaps outside a flower shop in town yesterday. One was looking into the florist's window, and his friend said "I wouldn't get her anything mate, she'll think you're up to something!" to which his friend replied, "That's true, and I don't like her that much anyway". I wish them every happiness.

Of course, the main problem with being a florist is that no one ever sends you flowers! "Oh but why would you want flowers?" they say. This is outrageous. Are postmen not allowed to receive post? Can milkmen not drink milk? Does Father Christmas not get any Christmas presents? Exactly.

Photees

A Mass of stunning white delphiniums.

A lovely bouquet of early autumn foliage and herbs, not a flower in sight!

A bridesmaid's posy from the garden.

You can lead a horticulture, but you can't make her think.

At this time of year, when the garden is a barren wasteland, and the weather is hardly gardener-friendly, there's nothing nicer than pouring over an enticing seed catalogue, and dreaming of what's to come. The Sarah Raven catalogue came flitting through the door recently, and with it all the inflated hope that one day MY garden would be full to burtsing with every kind of gorgeous flower and succulent vegetable, just like hers is at Perch Hill (and now, of course, Sissinghurst. What, one amazing garden wasn't enough? Did she sell her soul to the gardening-God when she was young?). I like how there are a few carefully chosen photos of Sarah daintily collecting jewel coloured rhubarb, as she wanders through her enormous garden, swathed in rabbit fur. The whole excercise seems extremely easy, glamorous, and ultimately hugely virtuous:Yes we grown and eat all our own courgettes! Yes our Italian cook uses at least 39875lbs of home-grown heritage tomatoes to maker her famous passata - I didn't even know it was commercially available until I unwittingly wandered into a supermarket once when I only put one contact lens in by mistake!

If there were pictures of me in that catalogue, they would feature me knee-deep in compost fishing my mobile phone out of the compost heap (yes this actually happened), or using a few choice adjectives at high volume when I discovered that mice had eaten every single last one of my sweet-pea seeds, despite a fort-knox-crossed-with-the-kremlin style greenhouse security system, oh, and I would be swathed in...well...I don't think I own any clothes made out of swathable material... Maybe this year I'll catch the mice and turn them into a coat..... only joking, I'm rubbish at sewing. Despite the veneer of gardening ease which I know to be false, I have of course succumbed utterly to everything, and made gardening plans well beyond my capabilities and budget. It's a bit like watching a haute couture catwalk show when you can't even fit into your pyjamas, and your overdraft is roughly equivalent to America's national defecit.

What is ALWAYS fun is wandering around New Covent Garden Market. Talk about window shopping. Whenever I'm feeling a bit lacklustre in the auld creative department I just stroll around the 'sundries' suppliers with my mouth open, bumping into six-foot high faux Grecian urns made of lime coloured perspex, and meandering through oceans of every conceivable

bloom, plus some inconceivable ones (what is the deal with those xanths you get which have been dyed blue and purple? I remember doing that at primary school in science class, it didn't make me think, "Wouldn't this look nice in a bouquet?" it made me think, "what have I CREATED!!??"

You want£6000 worth of peonies? They have them...

You want 500 black glass candelabra? Your ship has come in...

Yes it's also a bit of a hide-me-from-reality fest, but when it's this cold and windy, and even thoughts of summer seem ludicrously far away, it's nice to know there's a sort of florist's sweet shop there to make your mouth water, and it doesn't involve any mud or hard work. Unless you count the 3am start to get there...

The Bucket residence, the lady of the house speaking

Here's a handy tip. If you've got metal buckets full of water, and you hear that the temperature is going to drop to -10 degrees, then EMPTY THEM. Otherwise you get to play the super fun game of Icebucketpalooza, where no one is a winner.

Here are some jaunty photos of the wedding at Lympne Castle which I did just before Christmas. It was great to be a guest at the wedding, as it's quite sad doing wedding flowers, dropping them off, and never getting to see the finished effect, or the reaction it gets. Often you don't even get to see the bride when you drop bouquets off, although when you do see the bride, she bursts into tears - usually of joy....I think.

I had a strict wedding flower timetable, thrown into total chaos when I woke up on day 1 of the Strict Timetable to find I had been stricken by the mystery illness of ultimate doom. Thus, instead of the leisurely, consistant, no-detail-too-small approach I had envisaged, I instead had to do my best impression of a headless chicken. My degree in drama served me well for this, as I was once lucky enough to play the part of a chicken in a production about eggs...

Anyway, it all got done in the end, it looked lovely, everyone had a jolly time and love conquered all. At the wedding I mean, not in the egg play.

Christmas went by in a flash of greenery, food and new socks, and here we are in 2009. Naturally, having made approximately an infinte number of wreaths, I only got round to doing one for my front door on Christmas Eve...

I have a new diary for 2009, and as I leafed through it I noticed that it listed every single obscure international holiday (this year, Cheese Day, Clear Off Your Desk Day, and Presidential Inauguration Day all fall on January 20.) but NOT Valentines day. I was perturbed. Had I got the wrong date? Had I imagined the whole sorry debacle? I'm pretty sure it still exists. I think I'll join the crusade to say NO to red roses on Valentines day, and recommend beautiful posies of scented seasonal bulb like things this year. That's eco love. It seems absurdly early to start thinking about such things but us florists have to get a head start on things. Especially those of us who manage to freeze our own equipment by mistake...

Stall's well that ends well.

Kablam! Another monster pun!

Well, come one come all and listen to my great tale of the Great Dixter Christmas Fair..... I arrived half an hour before it opened (having set up the day before) to find that hordes of super keen people had been let in early! And someone was already standing at my stall asking to buy things! "Amazing", I thought, "I shall be cleaned out before it's even time for elevenses". This proved not to be the case, but there was an excellent turn out, and it really was the most amazing location. I was in the Yeoman's Hall, next to an enormous raging fire (note to Great Dixter - surely you are plant savvy people, and know that flowers do not cope well next to leaping flames? Just saying is all...) with a jolly troupe of other stall holders, selling everything from beautiful handmade soaps to amazing jewellery. Hidden up the stairs past the tombola, some might say we were tucked away from view, in the manner of a slightly embarassing family member. I like to think we were the jewels in the crown of the fair, positioned cunningly next to the tea and cake section, a reward for the inquisitive shopper. Look at the stall of destiny, is not it lovely?

Bizarrely, all the things I thought would be snapped up instantly people didn't even look at, and the things I made last thing at night in front of the telly just to use up leftover material, were ohh and ahh-ed over, and bought straight away! Which just goes to show how much I know. Nuffink.

The most frustrating thing at these events is when people pour over you work, saying "oh it's all so beautiful, you're so clever, it's so wonderful, you have such talent" and then they walk away without buying anything! Still, a tremendous boost to the morale, if not to the coffers. That said, the whole thing was a delight, and I came away with a spring in my step and a cheque from none other than Christopher Lloyd! (great nephew of I believe...)

The most surprising moment was finding Yukka, one of the Great Dixter dachshunds, under my table trying to make off with my sandwich. Fat hund.

Now my attention turns to the big wedding next weekend. I've already worked out that there are not actually enough hours in the day to get everything collected, arranged and delivered, but I have every confidence that someone will invent some sort of time travel device by next Wednesday. Every confidence.