A shed full of larkspur, lilies and cornflowers

We’ve got a rather lovely wedding to do this weekend, up in Greenwich.

The mother of the bride braved our flower plot and shed, back in February and, despite it being rather cold and bleak at that time was remarkably enthusiastic about what we were doing. Now, a few months down the line and the big day is looming.

Lilies, roses, pinks and foliage have all got to go to the church tomorrow, so the flower ladies can work their magic. The lilies were grown by a fantastic flower-grower near Canterbury, called Michael Minter and are the old-fashioned, highly scented ‘longiflorum’ variety. Like white trumpets.

Today has involved nipping around picking up flowers — like the larkspur — and cutting flowers from the plot. Our own larkspur isn’t quite ready yet but the cornflowers have come out just in time for the wedding.

We have been blessed with sunshine for several days now, which means the plot is getting a little dry and even our oasis-like shed is a little muggy. Our cold room is on the blink, so our shed fridge — which usually contains snacks and elderflower cordial has been cleared out to make room for two buckets of roses. If it’s good enough for Jane Packer, it’s good enough for us.

The chickens are doing well, despite the fact that their negligent owner (me) gave them food and water the other day, but forgot to put their ladder back down after moving the run. The thought of them stuck ‘downstairs’ with nowhere to roost, fills me with guilt. I can just imagine the fox’s teeth gnashing outside the wire. Fortunately, I’ve been told, chickens have short memories.

Anyway, back to the flowers. The last thing I saw before leaving the plot tonight was a shed full of blue and white flowers: roses, lilies, cornflowers, larkspur, pinks, our own gypsophilla and all sorts of other lovely, scented things. I hope the bride loves them as much as we do…

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