Where to begin

I truly believe that books are sent to us, just like the plants you didn't plant are a gift from birds .... or the universe or the creator
The following book was left for me in my local charity shop 'The Solitary Summer' by Elizabeth von Arnim. By my standards the book is small, - 190 pages but what an absolute delight it is to read. First published in 1899, the text is so very well written, the personality, absolutely shouting off the pages. The passage that follows had me spellbound:
"Here was the world wide-awake and yet only for me, all the fresh pure air only for me, all the fragrance breathed only by me, not a living soul hearing the nightingale but me, the sun in a few moments coming up to warm only me."
This 19th century aristocrat and I (a working class council house dweller) share a deep and inspiring love affair with our gardens - gardens that save us, succour us and perplex us, but without which we would flounder.