My grandmother told me that I had green fingers, when I was three or four years old. I had planted an apple pip, which grew into a small tree, and was later inherited by whoever took over our house in Bristol. I am sure Granny Betteridge’s encouragement cast its magic over me, as I have always loved plants and growing things.

Lockdown has given me the chance to spend much of my time in a new-to-me big garden. One that had been abandoned – other than having the grass cut – for several years. Space to grow vegetables for the first time, and to have a different plan for every day of lockdown, of how the garden might look in a few years time. Exploring the possibilities of the strange, sandy, acid seaside Scottish soil, so different from the London clay of my previous postage stamp garden.

Today I have planted out many of the small plants that have grown indoors from seed, and were later transferred into my first, much loved cold frame. I admit to talking to plants, and telling them that I hope that they will be happy in their new home, and apologising for moving them. I thanked the Cavolo Nero kale, that I have just dug up, for feeding the cabbage white butterfly caterpillars – and me, all through the winter – and then supplying spring pollen to the early bees.

On my walk today, and in the spirit of Granny Betteridge, who always ‘borrowed’ cuttings from other people’s gardens, or from the gardens of National Trust properties, I ‘borrowed’ two clematis cuttings from the walls of houses I passed en route. I hope it works. I will be taking a different route tomorrow just in case someone spotted me!