-- How Eleanor Westmore Cultivates a Life More Abundant Than Dahlias and Sweet Peas in Her Connecticut Home

From her grandmother's greenhouse in Hampshire, England, to a flourishing garden in rural Connecticut, USA, Eleanor Westmore's story is about heritage, connection to the land, and planting memories in New World soil.

That first winter in rural Connecticut, Eleanor Westmore would stand at her kitchen window each morning, coffee in hand, gazing out at the raw and rugged land beyond. No neatly arranged flower beds, no manicured hedges—just rampant wild grasses and untamed ancient trees, displaying the wild beauty of North American wilderness under a vast sky.

"There was no garden in the traditional sense, only nature in its most authentic form," she recalls. "Throughout the winter, I envisioned my dream garden through this window. A space truly belonging to this land and to us." Every angle of planning, every burst of inspiration, stemmed from that window.

This garden grew from the vision at the kitchen window. From the initial barren land, a unique garden emerged—one that respects local ecology while carrying personal memories. A space perfectly blending European elegance with American rustic style, filled with thriving North American native flowers and rare varieties inherited from her grandmother.

Childhood Memories: Inheritance in the Greenhouse

I grew up in Hampshire, England, but I've spent most of my life in America. This cross-cultural upbringing has deeply influenced my gardening philosophy. My grandmother's traditional English garden will always be my source of inspiration, but the magnificent natural landscapes of New England fascinate me equally.

My grandmother's garden was typically English: neatly trimmed boxwood hedges dividing different functional areas, complete with a rose garden, orchard, and bonfire pit. My favorite was the old greenhouse, always filled with the fresh scent of tomato vines—that's the smell of home I'll never forget.

Putting Down Roots in New England

When our third child arrived in our high-rise apartment in Manhattan, I knew it was time for a change. We needed more space for the children to grow up in nature. So, we resolutely left the bustling city and found a 19th-century farm in northwestern Connecticut.

This three-and-a-half-acre plot was full of wild beauty: dense white pines, towering hemlocks, and various native tree species. Though a bit chaotic, what I saw was unlimited potential—here, we could create a unique garden blending European elegance with American rural charm.

We moved in November, and the first thing we did was install deer fencing—a necessity for farming in New England. The following April, we began the real transformation: starting with the first flower bed, then planting American yews as hedges, gradually building garden "rooms."

Dialoguing with the Land

The flower beds envisioned from the kitchen window have now flourished: sweet peas climbing on trellises made from local hazel wood, cosmos swaying in the breeze, wildflowers naturally spilling over the path edges.

The special period in 2020 gave me the opportunity to take a professional horticulture course and eventually turn my hobby into a business. When I saw the gap in the local flower market, I decided to found "Flowers of New England Earth", providing high-quality cut flowers that truly embody local characteristics.

Our flower season runs from late April to late October, with different stars each season: hyacinths, tulips like 'El Niño,' 'Spring Green,' and 'Queen of Flamingos,' and North American native fritillaries. Even wild parsley adds a touch of ethereal wildness to bouquets.

This life synchronized with nature's rhythms has taught me patience and tolerance. Just like I insist on growing sweet peas—though the climate here isn't ideal, they carry my memories of my grandmother. Whenever I give a bunch of sweet peas to neighbors, the surprise and emotion on their faces are the most precious rewards of gardening.

Over twelve years, we're still constantly learning and adjusting. Michael learned fruit tree pruning from videos and has become an expert in it. Just like in my grandmother's garden back then, the whole family harvests fruits together, makes preserves, and collects flower materials.

This garden has grown from its initial conception into a vibrant organism, a unique space carrying memories, emotions, and lifestyle. If the garden could speak, it would say: She is still learning, still growing, still dialoguing with this land.