I’ve been dreaming of spring weather, warm breezes, and romantic gardens. Crumbling, moss-covered stone walls draped in English ivy. A garden full of languid camellias and delicate, blush roses; trickling fountains and a sun-drenched courtyard interwoven with thyme.
Gardens are my favorite place to be in the warmer months. As a child, I would often be found curled up on a bench under our weeping willow, book in hand. Even now, as an adult, I love nothing more than to share a picnic in a field, wander the winding paths of a forest, or unwind on white, sandy beaches. As I wait for the temperatures to rise, I find myself staring wistfully at pictures of gardens, excited for spring to come.