Grandmother’s garden

Hidden within every garden are the stories of how it came to be. By looking at what had been lovingly cultivated by her grandmother, Natalie Warner discovered deeper lessons about heritage and home

My grandmother’s time in the garden was a ritual: every Sunday afternoon she’d make time for it, and every Sunday evening she’d do her nails with an emery board and an electric manicure set, complete with attachments. I’d follow her around the garden, helping as only children can, taking breaks to suck mud clean off the dirtiest pebbles. Years later, I found myself drawn to the garden as one of the last earthly touches of my grandmother’s presence. It has changed in places: some beds are now used to grow veg, some shrubs have died away, others have a new zest for life. The garden was my inheritance, and I wanted to recover its past glory as a site of happy memories. I began by looking at the plants I confidently knew…

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The Simple Things (Digital) - 1 Issue, April 2022

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