"Isn't it strange how the smallest of flowers can be the hardiest of nature's finest in her rockery of life? Mankind may cut down, pull up and trample on every flower they see, but they will not stop spring from coming.
I have always loved flowers, plants and trees and was fortunate enough between the ages of thirty and fifty to spend many of my leisure hours in my garden in all weather. I prided myself on knowing the names of every plant that I grew and I cannot recall the number of hours I spent tending to the most delicate of blooms in frosty winters and delighting at their first signs of flower. I loved watching the weekly television gardening shows and was privileged to know the late television gardener Geoffrey Smith as a close friend for over twenty years.
One early morning during an extremely cold March I was walking around my garden drinking a cup of tea when suddenly I spotted a pink flower start to sprout from the rockery. It was an evening primrose from the Oenothera caespitosa family. Though its shade was subtle, what pleased me more than its look was the fact that I hadn't planted it there, yet in my garden it had started to grow. In a strange way, I felt proud and privileged that from all the other gardens around, the wind had brought this strange seed to settle and prosper on my soil.
Because of the spread of increasing arthritis and greater immobility today, my gardening now has to be done in pots and I miss my early morning walk around the garden in search for newcomers to welcome. Still, I suppose that I could always walk down through the village and derive pleasure from greeting any newcomer I meet there." William Forde: October Ist, 2015.