Here’s the funny thing: you don’t even need to like plants. Seriously. The Association runs open-air theatre nights, crafternoons, and a “Plant Hunt” for kids that involves more running and shouting than actual botany. It’s a social club disguised as a horticultural society. You can join purely for the gossip and the cake sales, which are legendary. I’m told the Victoria sponge at the last summer fete was so tall it needed a structural engineer’s approval.
So if you’re ever near Shakerley, and you see a cluster of people poking at a leaf with an intense, almost religious fervor, you’ve found them. Don’t be scared. Buy a pot of honey from their shop, listen to the old-timers argue about compost ratios, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll learn how to hypnotize that tomato plant. Don’t hold your breath, but it’s worth a try. Long live the mud, the chocolate orchids, and the ever-persistent slugs.
