My Garden, My Quiet Muse

There is something quietly enchanting about my garden in early summer — not grand or sprawling, but tucked just enough away from the world to become one’s sanctuary.

The south garden (I'm saving my notes about the smaller north garden in a separate post), though meant to bask in sunshine, lives in soft dappled light from our neighbours' hedges and trees. It's here where my roses grow — each bloom a gentle firework of form and colour. They rest in a bed of lavender, hardy geraniums, and the delicate green froth of my favourite alchemilla mollis. It is a tapestry more than a border, stitched together with patience, seasons, and a certain kind of love that grows with time.

These roses especially speak to me. Their blush tones and petal folds often echo in my studio, in the paper flowers I create by hand. They are not just flowers — they are living references, endlessly generous with their detail. Their presence in my garden is more than ornamental; they remind me why I began shaping beauty from paper in the first place.

Nearby, a humble vegetable trug brims with herbs, radishes and mangetouts — jewel-toned and tender, each pod a small treasure. Their blossoms — soft pink with ruby hearts — add a blush of joy to the green. We’ve been harvesting more than we can eat, so the extras go into brown paper bags, handed off to neighbours, friends, and family. It’s a small gesture that brings massive happiness.

And in the quiet moments — those in-between pockets of time — I find myself wandering here. Not pruning, not planning, just... present. The garden has become more than a source of inspiration. It’s a balm. A gentle counterbalance to the precision and patience my paper flower work demands.

In a city that moves at full speed, and with a business that requires my full attention, my garden slows me down. It reminds me to notice. To breathe. To marvel. And I think that’s what we all need — not just a garden, but a place that roots us.

So here’s to the quiet beauty of shaded petals, the joy of a shared harvest, and the power of a garden to soften the edges of a busy day. May we all find time to wander.

Beam x