Lavender

I can't walk past lavender without reaching out and running my hand through it. I've never met anyone who can. It's one of those involuntary things, like yawning or smiling at a dog. Hidcote is the variety I come back to every time — compact, deeply coloured, and with a scent so clean and warm it makes the whole garden smell like a good decision.

The colour is what separates Hidcote from the paler varieties. It's a proper, saturated violet-purple — almost indigo in certain lights — and when a whole hedge of it is in bloom in July, the effect is extraordinary. Bees agree. I've stood next to my lavender path on a hot afternoon and the sound alone is worth the planting.

It's not really a cut flower in the traditional sense — the stems are short and it dries almost immediately. But that's part of its charm. Cut a few handfuls, tie them loosely with kitchen string, and hang them upside down in the kitchen. In a week you've got dried lavender that'll scent a room for months. It's the flower that keeps on giving long after the garden has moved on.

I use it in everything — tucked into linen drawers, in a small jar on the bathroom shelf, mixed with dried rose petals in bowls on the windowsill. The dried stems are almost more useful than the fresh ones, which is a rarity in the flower world.

If you've got a sunny patch of well-drained soil and want something that will look after itself, attract every pollinator in the postcode, and make your garden smell like the south of France, Hidcote is the one.