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This post is for my mother, Maggie. Two years ago, my father brought over a spice jar full of seeds collected from their small plot in Sturminster Newton. I scattered them in our village garden and waited - and waited. Nothing much happened except for a few plants that grew an inch or two and then stopped and sat still, neither growing taller nor dying off. I'd just about given up on them and was bemoaning my lack of green fingers when I had a lovely surprise. We moved back to the village last week and were greeted with a patch of beautiful Sweet Williams. Now that Dad is no longer with us and Mum yesterday signed on the dotted line to sell the Dorset house, it's up to me to collect the seeds and keep this dynasty of English flowers blooming in Turkey.
