Whenever I pass a cottage like this, I wonder why the hell I live in London. I start entertaining fantasies of a weekend bolthole or moving, lock, stock and barrel somewhere greener and more pleasant. One day, hopefully, I’ll make it happen!
Anyway, what I like about this garden is that it’s clearly doing its own thing. The planting complements the blues of the gate and the door, which, if you look closely, are subtly different. But because it’s all gone a bit bonkers, it’s not twee.