![]() ![]() ![]() Like Elizabeth, I may be ignorant about gardening (her blunders seem more delightful than mine) but I am certainly enthusiastic.Īfter five years of marriage, all spent in urban gloom, and the births of three daughters, the April, May, and June babies as she refers to them, Elizabeth finally visits her husband’s Prussian estate and falls in love with it, despite its rather dilapidated state. I have lost count of how many times I’ve read it, always picking it up at least once during the year, usually in the depths of winter when, like Elizabeth, I’m dreaming of spring plantings and June roses. ![]() Whenever I try to compose a list of my favourite books, an almost impossible task, Elizabeth and Her German Garden by Elizabeth von Arnim invariably claims one of the first spots so, of course, I had to read it again for Carolyn and Rachel’s Virago Reading Week. But I did it behind a bush, having a due regard for the decencies. ![]() I am always happy (out of doors be it understood, for indoors there are servants and furniture) but in quite different ways, and my spring happiness bears no resemblance to my summer or autumn happiness, though it is not more intense, and there were days last winter when I danced for sheer joy out in my frost-bound garden, in spite of my years and children. ![]()
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