I have lived in my home for some time, which means that both the garden and the house carry some personal history and memories. When my granny died, a fair few years ago, I transplanted a small clump of wild cyclamen from her beautiful, much loved garden into mine and these are now flowering. Seeing them makes me think of her, she was a very smart and charismatic woman, quite fierce but generally fair in her judgement. The flowers of these cyclamen are much smaller and more delicate than the cultivated ones that flower in the autumn which are from planted out pots bought from local market and plant stalls.