Every voice in the archive.

My grandmother's garden was full of herbs and currants. You could hide between the bean poles. The smell of the earth after rain stays with me.

My grandmother's garden ran down to the sea. Roses, mint, and rhubarb. I can still smell the salt in the wind and the warm earth of the vegetable beds.

My grandmother's garden was small but full. Beans, a ditch, and a pear tree. In summer everything smelled of pears, and a little of the water in the ditch.

Grandmother had a herb garden — sage, thyme, rosemary. She always said: a garden must smell before it looks.

Apple trees and beans grew in my grandmother's garden. In summer it was a green tunnel between the rows. I always smelled tomatoes and earth.

My grandmother's garden had geraniums and sorrel leaves. And peach trees — so many peaches we gave them to the neighbours. The smell of peaches in the afternoons.