From the Editor, Leigh O’Connor.
Back to the Garden feels like stepping through a quiet door in the middle of a noisy day. The air softens first - eucalyptus, damp soil, a shy sweetness from something in bloom - then the light follows, sifted through leaves like green lace. Paths curl with gentle intention, leading you past herbs brushing your calves, petals freckled with last night’s rain and pockets of shade where the world seems to lower its voice.
There’s a patient joy here: bees working their tiny shifts, birds stitching melodies between branches and your own breath syncing to the slow, steady rhythm of growing things. You remember, almost with surprise, how good it is to be small among life that keeps reaching.
Somewhere a fountain ticks and soft laughter drifts from a bench, reminding you belong to this hush. By the time you leave, your hands smell faintly of rosemary and your heart feels rinsed clean.
Come with us this week as we explore the magic of the garden in all its bounty…
In cities that once equated sophistication with distance - truffles flown from Europe, tuna hauled across oceans, berries in mid-Winter - a quiet reversal is taking hold. The most coveted ingredient is now the one with a first name, the one you can point to and say, "I grew that.”
To eat what you grow is to collect time as much as flavour. Heirloom carrots left in the ground a little longer, basil pinched at its peak, lemons picked while the morning is still cool on their skins - these are pleasures that can’t be rushed, nor replicated by a supply chain.
Compost is the new caviar - and honestly, it’s about time.
Once upon a linen tablecloth, luxury meant truffles shaved with reckless abandon, oysters on ice and a waiter who said "shaa-lot” with the confidence of a TED Talker - but the high-end world is getting a glow-up. The new flex isn’t what arrives on your plate - it’s what doesn’t end up in the bin.
Welcome to the era where restaurants treat their scraps like sacred relics and the compost heap is basically a VIP lounge.
Picture this: the late-afternoon sun is slanting through the leaves, the lawn smells like warm grass and someone laughs in that easy, holiday way.
A Summer garden party isn’t about perfection - it’s about bottling that feeling of ‘we should do this more often’ and pouring it out for people you like. We show you how to host one that feels effortless, even if you’ve been quietly sprinting around for two hours beforehand.
Discover edible gifts from the garden, the rise of botanical cocktails, the best picnic accessories and much more!
