‘Left alone, I became aware of a breeze lifting my collar. I pulled the packet of Nigella seeds out of my pocket and shook them over the freshly turned soil. Some had become trapped inside the paper seam but I scraped them out and threw them into the air. But as I watched the black dots drop down the wind arrived, dragged them back up and threw them up, up, over the high wall. I looked down at the picture on the packet. Pale blue petals, leaves like sewing needles. Love- in-the mist.’
The Insistent Garden.
Rosie Chard 