Many of us have strong childhood memories created in gardens and nature that we have a strong urge to draw on in adulthood. As we traverse through life, a particular plant, a heady floral perfume on the morning air, looking through old photos, remembering days in gardens or a place in nature can all bring memories flooding back and fill us with warm fuzzy nostalgic feelings.

*Who remembers gardens like this? When I read this book to my little girl I rest on this page as long as she’ll let me as this was the garden of my youth.*

I find it interesting when taking the design brief with a client how many will say something along the lines of ‘Oh I love [insert plant] because my grandmother had them in her garden’, or ‘I remember picking [insert plant] when I was a child’ or ‘I must have a [insert plant] as they were my mum’s favourite and it will remind me of her’.

I am sure we all have a little bit of this within us.

*Certain plants remind us of our childhood - “My Grandma loved her Roses” or “Remember popping Fuchsia buds?”*

I often recall the small border my mum dug for me next to my wendy house (she seems to have blocked the memory! - maybe I wasn’t quite the dedicated gardener I remember myself to be!). It was a circular island bed and was filled with a random array of annuals and perennials, all quite small, just for my little hands. This border - and my childhood years I spent whiling away the hours in the rest of our garden and the smallholding - created the foundations for my career that wove through conservation, environment and now garden design.

*Feeding one of our pets when I was around 6 years old. I can just make out the tulips popping up in the border by the fence.*

A particular plant can hold huge emotional attachment for us. I inherited a pelargonium from the greenhouse of a dear friend’s late father. His mother didn’t know what to do with it and so I took it. I am now growing my first little cutting from the ancient plant. I am not growing it for myself, but for my my friend. He was moved to hear I was doing this and he asks often if it has rooted. I wish I knew if it has! Time will tell! In the meantime I care for the cutting and parent plant and think of his late father often.

*My friend’s late father’s Pelargonium (the parent plant).*

I do wonder how much of garden design trends pull on our childhood memories. The flower shows certainly do , for example with Andy Sturgeon drawing on his young life spent knocking about in the woods that has inspired his Chelsea garden this year. And he won’t be the only one. Those of us who are of a certain age will remember crazy paving as it would have been the solid surface beneath our feet as we jumped, skipped and played. Crazy paving in the traditional form - and re-imagined - is coming back. Stack bond (see top image!) . . . we are big on that in the industry right now. Borders full of conifers - again, another 60s/70s garden trend we are seeing making its way back. Is this because of our childhood memories and nostalgia? I don't know. But I’d hazard a guess and say that there is something in it.

*Crazy paving and conifers- 21st century style at Chelsea in 2018.*

Even in my garden now I am drawing on aspects of my young gardening encounters. I am currently tending a low mow lawn I sowed back in the autumn. Yes, I am growing this for the wildlife benefits it brings, but also because I want to recreate a sense of the lawn we had at the farm. The lawn that had patches of daisies, self heal, creeping buttercup, and the clovers that we used to suck the nectar from.

*Bellis perennis - my first wildflower to grace me with her presence ion my Low Mow Wildflower Lawn this Spring. Our family lawn was full of wildflowers, and many a daisy chain was made!*

Today I popped home to see my mum. She handed me a tatty little hellebore to bring home and plant. I knew instantly what it was. It was a hellebore I was given as a child. Well, it is a descendant! As a child I used to walk the mile to the village to Sunday school and to the shops. En route, I would dilly-dally (I was often away with the fairies as a child), picking flowers from the verges, talking to the animals in the neighbouring fields, stuffing my face with blackberries. I would also talk to all our neighbours, and one chap, Old Mr Jones, who lived 1/4 mile from the farm was often out front of his little Sussex cottage tending his plants. He would sometimes call me to the gate and tell me to stop by on my way home. I would, and he would hand me over a pot filled to the brim with moist soil stuffed with a small plant, or he’d hand me a little tied up bunch of flowers. I remember he also gave me a double celandine and a double wood anemone (both now lost in history and various house moves). Old Mr Jones is never forgotten.