The garden feels like a true work of love, and rather magical, so Iâ€™ve chosen this beautiful Chinese poem byÂ Ping-Hsin for it.
To escape from thoughts of love,
I put on my fur cloak,
And ran out from the lamp lit silent house.
On a tiny footpath
The bright moon peeps;
And the withered twigs on the snow-clad earth
Across and across, everywhere scrawl â€œLoveâ€.
And I invite you to write about love in the garden todayâ€¦ with a glass of champagne in your hand if you feel like it!