Our garden in Ubbeston, Suffolk is my sanctuary. Not perfect, not pristine, but rambling and open to the wantings of the plants themselves. This May, perrenials I planted last year have returned and flourished. The lupins glowed like sugary spires and the ox-eye daisies blended with smaller constellations of self-seeded camomile behind. The newly dappled light, window reflections and myriad of leaves created this shimmering dream of Spring. I adored watching it evolve each day; flowers going over as others took their place; clouds of butterflies and bees hidden in foxgloves. It felt lazy and effortlessly full of life, and unrecognisable from the bramble thicket it was a few years ago.