Say it with flowers...by Sheila Claydon

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Weather-wise, I don't know what the winter of 2020/21 was like in the rest of the world, but in the UK it was cold and wet, and the dreariness dragged on into spring. When the sun should at least have been trying to shine it stayed tucked away behind a blanket of grey cloud, and the rain kept on falling. The outcome, where I live on the northwest coast, was overflowing ponds, puddles everywhere, and, as the weather warmed slightly, lush grass and greenery. No flowers though. Everything was waiting for the sun to break through. Then it did, and my goodness the wait was worth it.

Too eager to show off, many of the plants burst into bloom before their time so that late winter, spring and the beginning of summer plants have been fighting for space all at once. And the growth is like nothing I've ever seen. Everything has doubled in size thanks to all that winter rain so that gardens are full to overflowing with colour and foliage. 

Waking up in the morning and stepping outside into all that beauty and colour makes every minute of the day worth living. Memories of that long winter are fading fast as another and then another plant bursts into bloom. And eating lunch outside under a pergola drooping with roses and honeysuckle, or drinking coffee in our tiny courtyard where the dramatic leaves of hosta provide a backdrop to pansies, pinks, and campanula is an absolute joy. 

In case you haven't realised it yet, I love flowers! My mother was a florist, which probably accounts for some of it at least, and my book Bouquet of Thorns pulls everything together. I know how to care for flowers because she showed me. I know how florists work because I watched her. And when I married I discovered that my mother-in-law was not only a keen gardener but someone who wanted to share her expertise and knowledge, so my garden now pays tribute to both of them. It has flowers that were originally cuttings from my grandmother's garden, there are plants my mother-in-law bought, planted for me and showed me how to care for, and the tubs and displays, while not as beautiful as the ones my mother would have planted, are as close as I can get. 

In Bouquet of Thorns, Sarah is trying to establish her own flower shop. Unfortunately she also has to manage her brother's run down wine bar when he is awarded a travelling scholarship. Working long hours, using the profits from her own business to prop up the wine bar, and trying to pacify her disgruntled boyfriend, she is too tired to think straight as she lurches from one catastrophe to the next. And even worse is the fact that Sean Marlow, with his Viking warrior beard and piercing blue eyes, always seems to be at the bottom of them.

It's a story about love amongst the flowers. What could be better?