Caught a cold - running stall in the rain!

It was bound to happen - last Monday I set up the plant stall in the market as usual, as soon as I started the heavens opened and the rain pouring down became torrential. It pretty much lasted all day on and off, so business was so slow - I'm starting to think that the gardeners in and around Brixton have forsaken me - so I soldiered on. I started packing up around 4pm through the rain and by the time I got home I was drenched. Now I've got the worst cold and cough - feel bunged up and sorry for myself.

If anyone tells you it's easy running a stall don't believe them!
I am so proud of my daughter who owns and runs Flower Love London in Brixton Market, she has been doing this since November 2014 - through the cold, rain, sun, hailstones, wind - going to market at 5am in the morning, getting home at 7-7.30 at night. You've got to have a dream to keep that up.

Anyway, I am such a herbalist so when the cold came on it started with a sore throat - I picked some Thyme from the garden, boiled it up and drank the tea. Then I went out and picked some ripe elderberries and made a cough syrup with it - which tastes delicious and will stave off a bad cough. I am also drinking a lung tea mix, courtesy of Brixton Wholefoods recipe without the peppermint - so it contains hyssop, mallow, mullein, coltsfoot, yarrow - plus other herbs I can't remember now but it works to support the lungs and generally for respiratory problems.

Monday raining all day in Brixton Market

Drenched when I got home1

Making Elderberry cough syrup

Black Elder in the garden

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.