A gardener and an art teacher, which is rather the point
Mum has been a professional gardener for twelve years. I have taught art for eight. Between us we know how a stem actually bends, which way a seed head sits, and what happens to a colour when the light drops at six o'clock.
It started in my old loft bedroom in 2023, surrounded by flowers and cups of tea and far too much chatting, making everything for my own wedding. When my brother got married this summer we did it all again, bigger, later into the night, arguing happily about whether the arch could take one more branch.
Somewhere between the joy and the chaos we realised this was not a hobby any more. So here we are. Two of us, a workshop that smells of dried allium, and a genuine soft spot for the moment a couple walks in and stops talking.
We spent hours choosing the right mix. Silk blooms, dried seed heads, real foliage. Soft, textured, a bit wild.








