When our house extension and renovation spluttered to a halt for most of a year, due to an unscrupulous builder, our garden remained a dangerous rubbish pile. I say dangerous, because I was walking over what I thought was grass, but turned out to be grass grown over accumulated dirt over discarded lengths of wood with rusty nails in it. I was lucky in that most of the nail I stepped on went into the inch thick rubber soles of my shoes, and barely broke the skin when it touched my heel.

Toward the end of that year, nasturtiums had self-seeded in the rubbish on one side of the house, and I came to love them for their ability to cover ugliness with fresh green and orange beauty. I saved the plant when the rubbish was removed and landscaping done, and it’s multiplied. Every year since I’ve gathered up the drifts of seed they drop and tossed them back into the garden bed, and every year they spring up more lush than ever.