Tulips In Amsterdam

I’d been looking forward to this trip, but I wished the atmosphere was a little warmer . . .

- Glenda Young

DON’T know much about flowers and plants, but I’m surrounded by people who do. Gardening is not only my husband’s job, it’s his passion, too – and it’s one my mother shares.

The gardening green fingered genes have passed me by, but I get to enjoy the fruits – and veg – of their labours.

When I was growing up, we always had a flower filled back garden. I remember Mum giving talks to local women’s groups, sharing gardening advice.

Whenever we’d go shopping she would buy packets of seeds and string bags of bulbs mixed in with the weekly supermarket shop.

Having a beautiful garden was something I took for granted. It was something that was always there, something Mum looked after.

When I first met Bob and told Mum he ran a plant nursery, she was over the moon. She thought they’d have a lot to talk about.

She was wrong. Bob was an only child, and his parents had passed away long before I met him. He’s a bit of an introvert, and has always got on better with plants than people.

I fancied him when we first met at college, but it took ages to get to know him properly. He was always reserved, as if he had a barrier around him.

I persevered, and I love him to bits, but there are times when I wish he would stop retreating into his shell, because he and my mum have never really got along.

They’re polite to each other, even nice, but it seems a forced friendship. Bob is only ever in Mum’s company if I’m there to act as a go-between.

Mum has resigned herself to thinking of Bob as part of my life, but not part of hers.

“As long as he makes you happy, that’s all I care about.”

And he does make me happy. I just wish he’d relax when he’s with her, instead of clamming up.