There are some things – fashion, crafts, cake decorating – that should really be left to the people who do them well.

I’m going to add gardening to that list. My politics may be green, but my fingers most certainly are not.

Don’t get me wrong. I like to sit in the garden at the end of the day, glass of wine in hand, letting the last rays of the sun ease some warmth into my shoulders. I like to watch DorkySon potter around out there, rubbing lavender or mint or thyme between his plump little fingers, putting them to his face, and inhaling deeply. I like the sweet hum of the bees; the soft beat of butterfly wings, and the way Mr Blackbird watches with one beady eye as I walk to collect the mail. I even like the tiny little skinks that dart out from the cracks in our wall. Continue reading →