June has arrived at Grove Farm - the garden has found its rhythm, the sun lingers long into the evening, and inspiration seems to rise from every leaf and petal.The borders are overflowing: foxgloves stand tall like sentinels; sweet peas climb their trellises in a tangle of scent and colour; and the peonies - always fleeting, always breathtaking - open their generous blooms with theatrical flair.

In the studio, we’re at the earliest stage of something new: developing new fragrances for 2026. Blotters are lined across tables like pressed flowers, each one whispering a possibility. Notes are taken, refined, set aside, returned to. It’s a quiet, meticulous process, grounded in instinct and emotion.

But we don’t stay indoors for long...

In the Studio: The Art of a New Fragrance

Inside the studio, new scents are beginning to take shape - slowly, delicately, like petals unfolding. Creating a fragrance is never rushed. It begins with an idea, often a feeling - a memory, a season, a fleeting moment we want to capture in scent. From there, we start to blend. Blotters are dipped and labelled, lined up like pressed wildflowers across the bench. Some combinations bloom immediately, others need time - to settle, to evolve, to reveal their true character.

We listen closely. To how the top notes sparkle, how the heart settles, how the base lingers on the skin hours later. The process is both instinctive and exacting, a dance between memory and method.

This month, we’re testing early accords for our 2026 fragrances. Notes are considered, refined, set aside, returned to. Sometimes it takes days for an idea to emerge. Sometimes it arrives in a moment of unexpected clarity - the right balance, the perfect mood. When it does, you feel it. Something clicks. It’s like finding the missing note in a piece of music.

As ever, we’re drawn to the natural world,  to the quiet elegance of botanicals not usually celebrated for their scent, and to the way fragrance can stir something deep and personal. It’s a slow process, and a deeply joyful one.

And while we create inside, the garden grows on, full of its own inspiration.

Gathering Peonies

In between scent trials, I pause to gather armfuls of peonies for the house -  their scent rich and nostalgic, their presence utterly joyful. There's a wonderful trick I've learned over the years: if you have unopened buds that are just showing colour, you can cut them and store them in the refrigerator for up to a week, then bring them out when you need them most - perhaps when guests are coming for dinner or you're hosting a special gathering. The cool temperature pauses their blooming, and once you place them in water at room temperature, they'll open beautifully within a day or two, as if you've choreographed their performance.

When you're ready to arrange them, cut the stems on a sharp diagonal and remove any leaves that would sit below the waterline. I change the water daily and add a teaspoon of sugar along with a few drops of bleach - it sounds strange, but it truly extends their life. At night, I move them to the coolest room in the house, which seems to refresh them for another day's display. I love using antique jugs or simple glass vases, anything that allows their heavy, ruffled blooms to tumble and sprawl naturally, creating that effortless abundance that makes a room feel instantly more alive.

Afternoons in Bloom

The herbaceous borders are reaching their crescendo now, a symphony of colour and fragrance that changes with each passing day. The towering delphiniums stand like cathedral spires in shades of azure and deepest blue, their flower spikes so heavy with blooms they seem to bend under their own magnificence. Nearby, the philadelphus releases clouds of orange-blossom sweetness into the warm air - you can smell it from the kitchen when the breeze is just right. The lupins have formed their own cottage garden chorus in dusty pinks, creamy whites, and that particular purple that seems to glow in the late afternoon light, while the roses are absolutely in their element, their blooms unfurling in layers of silk and velvet, perfuming every corner of the garden.

It's impossible to sit here without feeling completely immersed in this living, breathing tapestry of bloom, where every plant seems to be performing at its absolute peak, as if putting on a show just for us.

In the Kitchen Garden

Mornings begin in the garden. Watering pots, trimming herbs, and picking what's ready: jewel-pink radishes and tender peashoots. This month is a celebration of early summer - purple-tipped artichokes and sweet strawberries are finally coming into season, making their way into everything: from fresh summer salads to studding vanilla ice cream on hot days to popping straight into our mouths, sweet and sun-warmed straight from the bed. There's always a gentle race with the chickens to see who gets to the ripest strawberries first - they have impeccable taste and seem to know exactly when something is at its peak.

Let the Season In

This month, we invite you to follow your senses. To cut the flowers before they fade. To taste strawberries warm from the sun. To notice how a single scent can transport you. Even something as simple as our heavenly body wash has become a treasured ritual, so refreshing after long, warm days in the garden. June reminds us that the most precious things are often both abundant and brief. I hope you find your own moments of abundance, however small.

with love,
Laura x