My hot garden is a kidney-shaped bed that wraps around the front of a small red barn beside the colonial cottage we’re doing up.
I took my colour cues from the rusty corrugated iron roofing and lichen-stained planks that we’d salvaged from the old barn as we pulled it down, fixed its rotten foundations and put it back up again.
I figured a bout of plant-based retail therapy was just what the doctor ordered after six frustrating weeks laid up with a broken foot (you may recall that I fractured my right foot – yes, the spade-digging one – playing netball at Labour Weekend in 2019).