We were young, hardly more than children really, but finding warmth reciprocated in each other, we plunged headlong.

We rushed into buying land too. An entire acre in which to create our dream garden. Affordable because of its situation, we gave no consideration to the length of our daily commute or the current cost of fuel.

Paradise takes time. The tiny seedling tubes we bought from the State Garden Nursery now stand as strong wind breaks forty years on.

Gardening books became our Bible. “What Flower is that?”, “What Tree is that?”, “What garden pest is that?”, and in the middle of these well read tomes, lay our tatty little exercise book purchased by us on day one. It contained our ‘garden design.’ Originally filled with crosses, arrows and magazine photos, its pages over the years became stuffed with grubby, faded plant labels and indecipherable diagrams. It was our blueprint for paradise.

Many things died, yet if I were to open that notebook today, many of the dream plants it contained are alive and well on our acre. The Grevillea Robusta displays its beauties, although not in the original position we chose. The Lemon scented Gum, its trunk like an elegant female leg, smooth and pink, rewards the gardeners with its glorious perfume as we mow around the base. It too preferred to choose its own site.

Our garden dashed into creation much like we rushed into our life together. Oblivious to our master plan and dealing with a challenging environment, it evolved into something truly beautiful that was perfect for its setting.

We help it along sometimes, but I often feel like a child given permission to help with a task; the garden is in control.

As we enjoy an early stroll through the nooks and crannies of our beloved garden, my husband spots a crocus pushing through the snow. Its purple exuberance delights me. If you are rushing in the right direction and dashing for the right reason, never let a little snow hold you back.