Spring was always your favourite time of year mum, watching the bulbs you had so carefully planted in the winter, poke up through the ground and telling us to count the blossom trees we passed on the way home from Sunday lunch at grandma's house. You loved the garden so much, giant pots of daffodils and crocuses popping up under around the hedges. All those days you asked us to be helpers watering and weeding, spraying and collecting. At the time it seemed more of a chore than a fun job but I'd give a lot just to help you in the garden on one bright spring day again. 

We miss you. 

x your jo 

Do you remember when we found out you were sick and we spent one beautiful weekend in the garden writing out all the things you wanted to do? We decided that your first stop would be the Chelsea Flower Show and we managed to get tickets for the afternoon to go together and meet Pete there. We were so excited, booking a hotel nearby, making a reservation at Ottolenghi for dinner, it was exactly what you wanted. And then, very unfairly, it rained, the whole time. Torrential, soaking rain. But, completely typically, you found a way to make it fun, you didn't let it ruin our trip, we just grabbed some hideous ponchos and umbrellas and made the most of it clutching our large pimms in the other hand. You loved it, the show gardens, the beautiful floral displays, the buzz. I wished we'd taken you earlier. Pete wasn't so keen on the washed out conditions but dinner fixed things for him (no change there!) and you were just happy to have us together. I love thinking of that trip.