The Start Of New Things
2023’s First Notes From The Field
I like to keep these spaces full of beauty and hope. Life, however, doesn’t always make space for that. It’s been, in so many moments the very, very worst year; much grief, much trauma, much hospital. Fear reigned when mine and Rex’s lives have hung on the line. I don’t think I’ll ever be the same after 2022. But then, in turn, so many moments of this year have made it the very, very best too. Being home and surviving, strength returning, Rex’s little hot breaths on my neck. The book being launched, the Seed Shop being the most supported it’s ever been (thanks to you), and the Garden|Studio shop keeping us busy and in work. It’s been amazingly fulfilling watching the business have its best year yet despite it all.
None of the work over the last 9 months or so would’ve been done so well without the unwavering support and presence of Paris Alma who has been catching all the slack and weaving it into beautiful things. She is SO good at what she does. As we go into next year, there are so many wonderful, exciting changes planned that will help the business’ we’ve been nurturing and growing become a stronger, more resilient and more sustainable creature, together, and we can’t wait to share it all with you.
Paris and dried Love-in-the-Mist packing up the truck for the wreath workshops
Rex and I last month captured by our friend Tamsin Topolski
The last few weeks have seen us decking out our clients’ houses with boughs, branches and wreaths, replying to 2023 brides, and making plans. Christmas decorating is really the most joyful job of the year- when clients are most full of merriment, and the briefs are often the sillier and wilder the better. JOY. Carols play while we duck and weave with evergreens, sap sticking to our fingers. I decorated the tree at home finally, covering it with silk ribbons and pine cones, and it’s kept the dark out with its twinkling lights and spicy, sweet scent.
Paris and I begin a huge project next week. Drumroll please… We’re renting a field together from a local farm, to grow the huge crop of our dreams with the aim to offer a local, sustainably grown alternative to West Sussex and London florists, and in times of surplus- offer armfuls of farm grown stems directly to you too. Big bunches of ranunculus, pink, ruffly daffodils. Elegant, fragrant and long-lasting snapdragons. We can’t wait. It will be called Alma Proust. Our surnames together, that fit like a full name- a sister to our companies. She will be friendly, elegant, and full of joy. We have longer term plans to run more workshops and online lessons too. I hope you’ll enjoy following along on the journey as we build it to be the business we want to see in this world.
The only thing is. I ran away to Cornwall last night and I won’t be back in time for the first big thing in our new venture- the polytunnel is going up. I’m feeling a little guilty. You see, Rex and I found ourselves in hospital again- the theme of the year, there’s not been a week without some sort of visit there. BUT the miserable stay this week, all hooked up to bleeping machines, meant the holiday, a trip to Cornwall planned for an age was scuppered. We had booked a stay near Fowey- which is where my Grandparents grew up, meeting on the River aged 14, and marrying a handful of years later at the village Church. I can trace my ancestors on my Mother’s side back to here and the surrounding villages for over 400 years, when the trail suddenly goes cold at the end of good record keeping. I really wanted to come to Fowey. It would’ve been my Grandmother’s birthday yesterday.
The people we booked with, very kindly pushed our dates so we could still come once Rex was discharged. We ummed and ahhhed. Is it totally irresponsible to still go? We decided yes it probably is, and then came anyway. So here we are. Arriving just before midnight to whisper my grandmother a happy birthday up into the salty night air. We woke to a change of scene and it’s wonderful. I’m looking at the sea, and listening to it right now too. Rex and I are feeling better- although it could just be the sea air, either way, I’m so glad we came.
So from me and the sea, wishing you a very Happy New Year. Thanks for being here. Your support means that another field is getting turned into flowers, and that my friends, is a very beautiful thing.
looking at the sea, not far from Fowey