I’VE just been sent jolly jam and Jerusalem-worthy news about a potted herb garden created at Cambridge University. It’s an archipelago—as all pot gardens are—created by the cheerful bases of retired Henry and Hettie hoovers. Those iconic smiles and eyes now have scented fringes of awaiting harvests. Smiles aside, there is seriousness to any potted passions, particularly to the floral power they can give to bleak urban deserts.
Earlier in the summer, I gave a talk at the Derby Book Festival that took place in a
