Gnarled hands, cracked thumbs and a crinkly smile reveal how much of my life I have spent tilling the soil. Toiling in all weathers, digging, weeding and planting might sound arduous, but for those of us who love gardening it is a short cut to serenity and bliss. It starts as I pull on my wellington boots and stomp out into the garden. For wrestling with deep-rooted, pernicious weeds seems to help with the de-tangling of troublesome thoughts and worries. And the scattering of seeds in the soil and seeing them sprout and grow has an effect which is positively transformational.
I too have gone through a bit of a metamorphosis and have slowly, over the past few years changed my way of life and garden. I am now a small scale Flower Farmer. And I sell bunches of cut flowers at my garden gate. I have called this little venture
The Dartmoor Flower Shed.
I sell the flowers from a little blue shed with a zinc roof which is attached to a vintage cart. The shed helps protect the precious blooms from the wind, rain and hot sun. The red mailbox is my ‘honesty box’ where customers place their payment. In addition to the flowers I sell plants, homemade chutney and cards.
Villagers, passers by and people of all ages have been united in their love of the shed and its flowers. It is becoming a little land mark and a place where people find cheer in an unexpected place. It has brought me closer still to my community, helped me to meet new friends and has engaged me in doing something I love. I feel that I am one of the luckiest people on Dartmoor. I may be the only one with a shed full of flowers on wheels. I am certainly the only one who can’t steer it!
I would like to share with you some of my flowers….here…please take a bunch x x