I am so tired that I can barely keep my eyes open as I type this post/watch the Wimbledon men's final but I wanted to tell you that I started my very own herb garden this afternoon. It's a big step for a girl who thrives on the hustle and bustle of a city and rarely spends time in her family's backyard. The idea of living on a farm or in the countryside used to bore freak me out but as I grow older/find myself too busy to do anything, the more attractive it becomes. It's really quite romantic.

I spent a lot of my childhood in the garden with my Grandfather Michael where I forged some of my best memories like, riding in Grandpa's old wheelbarrow with cousins, sniffing White Jasmine as I collected the mail, finding red and yellow ladybirds on the leaves of various plants, and watching Grandpa pick curly leaf parsley from the earth then eat it. It was the latter that made me realise early on that Grandpa has a special way with Mother Nature and so, it is to him I dedicate my gardening journal, My Green Thumb. x.

Grandpa Michael and me