I've been meaning to link to this since the weekend: a n inspirational piece in the Guardian's Weekend mag by Barney Bardsley about how her allotment provided sanctuary and inspiration when her husband became ill:
The garden was a blank canvas when we arrived, just a few wallflowers in narrow borders around a patch of grass. I could fill it with anything I wanted, and did. Gradually, the tiny shrubs I had bought so haphazardly, always on the cheap, began to grow and flourish. From the start, I broke all the rules. Small garden, small plants? I have monsters in my borders: bracing rosemary and spiky purple berberis; palm-leaved rheum and towering plume poppy; copper-leaved cotinus; bamboo and billowing butterfly bush. Also, two apple trees, a sumach, a little weeping pear tree; an arch and a pergola covered with the scrambling excesses of ivy, Clematis montana, honeysuckle and red jasmine, which the bees adore. Everything jostles for space, creating a shade-filled, secret jungle, no more than 20 yards by 10. Whenever the walls of the house close in on me, this garden has offered fragrance and freshness of spirit. It has set me free.
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