The Winter of 2023/24 has been grim and full of gloom according to a lady I spoke to yesterday. I’m sure many would agree. I daresay statistics will show it to be one of the wettest on record but certainly not one of the coldest and there has (so far) been a scarcity of snow.
As in life, much about winter depends on your perspective. For a while now I’ve thought of myself as being a bit like a plant. One which emerges in early spring after a brief period of dormancy, perhaps jolted into life by a stratifying cold snap, and one which most certainly thrives in temperate conditions and requires regular watering. In other words – I like a good snooze in January under a blanket and with books, a trip to a cold place to see snowdrops in February, and lots of cups of tea as we get into March ready for the year ahead. Add to that the fact that I have a fear of crowded areas and prefer to have space in which to gravitate towards the light, preferably without being suffocated by weeds, and you have me down to a T, or should I say Darjeeling?
I suppose what distinguishes me from a plant (aside from me not having enough good markings and decent petals) is my need for human interaction. Whilst I’m very comfortable with alone time and the quietness of January I also enjoy the company of humans, and other animals. One animal in particular.
What I love about winter is that it gives me valuable time to rest. Rest is a subject all of its own. Because I identify with plants, I know it to be essential. To many it might seem weak to admit that you need time out and, having come of age in the late 80’s early 90’s, when nobody slept because they were at all night raves and we were told that sleep is for wimps, I reckon that sleep is nearly always the answer (closely follow by tea). A stress awareness course in 2010, enforced on us all by our boss (a bloke called Keir Starmer), taught me the power of a short Saturday-afternoon nap; something I still try to do after my Saturday flower practice if I can. Sounds very indulgent doesn’t it? But it works and it’s for free. Why is there so much guilt around the art of ‘doing nowt’?
When at the end of last season I advertised something called The Knackered Florists’ Retreat, the places went quicker than those Floret Zinnia seeds in metallic shades. Timing is everything when advertising a class and so mentioning it at the end of October must have struck a chord. Lots of stressed out florists and growers are feeling ‘it all’ by then. And it seems they needed a chance for a legitimate day off, maybe a night away from home, or alternatively a chance to stroke the crumbling walls in The Fig House at #middletonlodgeestate. “Funny how adding the word ‘estate’ can ‘elevate’ things isn’t it?” observed Éva Németh the other day. Middleton Lodge is of course a place that needs no elevation. A truly top-notch place with great food, a superb garden, excellent service and most conducive rooms. And owls that hoot in the night.
To get myself into a mindset where I could host a room full of florists/growers/floral designers/owners of small businesses I needed the gentle wake up call from Cambo. There is no place in the world more relaxing than Cambo gardens, in my humble and worthless opinion. A few folk in February agreed. In particular John from Japan, who this year made what I think might now be an annual snowdrop pilgrimage not from Japan but from Hong Kong. I don’t really need to big it up much more than that do I? Nothing is guaranteed to bring me and Éva Németh out of hibernation more than the promise of snowdrops and sea air – a combination that I’m going to suggest is what ‘elevates’ the Cambo garden. You’re right, I’m really not keen on the word elevate. I keep seeing it everywhere, along with authentic and overwhelm. Has ‘kind’ been abandoned now? I’ve not seen it mentioned for ages. Anyway, forget all that. There’s only one word you need in February and that’s ….snowdrop.
Photos by Éva Németh
There’s a distinct lack of dog on rock on beach photos from Cambo Winter 2024. I’ve mentioned before that the small dog has eye issues. Previously there’s been surgery to replace lenses, two years of an eye-watering regime of eye drops, and several agony-inducing 3 hour long journeys to a specialist eye vet in Penrith. This time, alongside the Cambo class there was a hole in an eye issue that added a touch of extra drama.
Valentine’s Day was spent with a bunch of velvety and green twiggy branches and a new basket that was made by Katherine Taylor the head gardener at Cambo. And instead of beach I made do with a few pebbles from the ever-expanding collection, including a couple of new special ones. A new vase for snowdrops, one that lets light through its almost translucent porcelain, kept me calm.
Confined to home for most of the end of February, looking after our very own canine hot water bottle, I had some time between eye drops to observe the lengthening of the days and it was a joyful one indeed when at 3.30 pm on a Tuesday afternoon I was able to carry out an in-depth photo shoot of the first crocus. Joyful escalated to heavenly on the last Monday in February when a small urn met some apricot hellebores and my flowery persona for 2024 began to develop its first set of true leaves.
In came March in true lioness form. Blowing her blustery gales and scattering snow on higher ground, threatening to stop a trip to Cheshire to collect some blossoming branches. Mercifully Sunday 3rd March dawned crisp and bright, with a hint of that slightly higher slanting spring sunlight that I love.
The roads up north to Middleton Lodge were clear and, after a quick set up of ‘urns, creased linen and other stuff’, Jill Shaddock and I took a turn around the famous Tom Stuart Smith-designed garden, quickly finding ourselves in the spring quadrant admiring the peachy sunset from beneath the wisteria cocoon.
Cocoons are as important as tea in my book. After 10 years of doing this amazing job that takes me all over the place, I’ve worked it out. Surround yourself with the nicest people and you can’t go far wrong. As we meandered back through that garden after dinner, this time with Éva Németh and Julie Woodford, we thought we might see the Northern Lights. They’d been advertised on the ‘app’. Sadly we didn’t catch them, but the following day, in that room full of women, I could see lightbulbs being switched on all over the place. Middleton Lodge asked if they could harness the energy from 34 flowery folk to heat the outdoor pool in the jazzy new spa area.
I short changed them all on an urn demo for many reasons. The underfloor heating in The Fig House is not conducive to the life of a hellebore. We all know they are temperamental flowers, especially early in the season, and the ones we had from Carol Siddorn were so beautiful that I didn’t want to ‘harm’ them by bringing them inside for the whole day. I can do a demo as long as I’m talking about what I’m doing. It’s easy to explain why you’re placing three curving branches in certain spaces and why you’ve chosen specific ones. But this day wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about watching me place things. These were experienced flower fettlers and I thought that what they really needed was permission not to do anything at all with flowers and to actually spend the day chatting to each other and moving around three areas designed (I hoped) to get them thinking about the year ahead.
Photos by Éva Németh
Jill Shaddock took her groups back out into that garden (by now under a blue sky after some atmospheric morning Yorkshire fog). The idea was to facilitate discussion about flower growing and flower ordering and the issues we all have with both.
Éva Németh chose The Fig House, with all of its light and aged walls and sprawling greenery. In this space with the gentle guidance that always comes alongside the garden photography genius, the idea was to show how easy it can be to document your work either with a camera or a phone.
I think it might have helped that just opposite was The Linen Garden pop up shop and Vicky Hunter had a few helpful props that seemed to have found their way home with people at the end. I’m thankful I didn’t have to referee a potential incident over a pansy painting and I think that really is testament to the kindness of the group. Lots of florists and a sale of rare jugs, bowls, ribbons and floral paintings could have been a recipe for disaster.
I stayed near the comfy sofas for the third group chat about business. My main aim was to be near the teapot, but honestly I think I only had two cups all day, which is of course a recipe for a headache the following day. I wasn’t quite prepared for what I discovered from those chats with those three groups.
I hadn’t realised that #internationalwomensday fell just a few days later. If ever you want to see a place where women have achieved equal status with men then look no further than the flowery world. Women who grow on large pieces of land in all weathers. Women who are as resilient as the flowers they grow. Women who ‘do’ the flowers for huge weddings, small weddings, funerals, events, art installations, television and film sets. Women who teach others how to do flowers and grow their businesses. Women who run shops. And each and every one of them with the life issues that we all face going on in the background. Remarkable, kind, beautiful, talented women. Women who might just have cured me of my fear of crowds.
Photo by Éva Németh
The other reason I didn’t do an urn was because only I knew that there was something way, way better after lunch. The mesmeric bouquet demo by Emma Cox. You probably had to be there but, if you were, then you were lucky to see it: Sheffield’s answer to the Northern Lights.
Photos by Éva Németh
What did I learn? That whilst we all agonise about how to use social media, the time tested business methods are possibly the most effective. Word of mouth, recommendations and referrals. This next year is going to be a tough one for those of us in the wedding industry. In short, there just aren’t as many weddings as there have been in the last few years. Never has passing around work by the referral method mattered more. I learned that not all businesses pay their staff, which means they can offer lower prices than are realistic, and this has an adverse effect on other businesses who are paying people fairly and who can’t then compete on price.
And, what I really learned is that most people feel guilty about taking time out, even when that time is well spent and might actually provide fresh ideas and inspiration, and we all agreed we should probably do it more often.
And the final reason I short changed on the urn? That day the small dog was having eye surgery. Just as the ice melted in the last bramble cocktail Mr Simply rang to say that we might need to rename Molly to Nelson. A few tears were shed over the loss of an eye. I knew there were others there with way worse things to worry about, but it was comforting to receive a warm hug from within the cocoon and to know that there would be a full pint of tea in the proper sheep mug on arrival back home.
Photos by Éva Németh
Many thanks to Anna Russell and the team at Middleton Lodge for ensuring this day went smoothly. https://middletonlodge.co.uk/. Thanks as always to Éva Németh for her generosity in sharing her photography skills with us all and for taking so many superb photos both at Cambo and Middleton Lodge. And thanks to the Simply team of Jill Shaddock, Katie MacRury, Mr Simply and Molly.
And finally, here’s an urn I managed to make with some leftovers, some brand new narcissi from The Yorkshire Flower Patch and the first of the March dawn light.
Here’s a list of attendees, mainly meant as a reference point for them in case they ever need it.
