From My Grandparents’ Garden to My Studio

Earlier this year, as I was setting off home from a gorgeous wedding in the Langdales (grinning from ear to ear), I found myself wondering how on earth I could possibly express how I felt about the brilliant couple who had just married, their wonderful family and friends, and the beautiful weekend packed FULL of meaningful celebrations that I’d left them to enjoy.

For the first time ever, I wished I had a blog — a space where I could truly dive into this wedding and share what made it so magical.

Now… the height of wedding season was hardly the time to start a new blog, so I sensibly put the idea on the back burner. But now, as we near the middle of November, I have a little more time to get it going — and so, here we are: my very first blog post.

Before diving into the gorgeous weddings I’ve been lucky enough to be part of this year though, I thought it best to begin with a little introduction to In The Meadow, and how we got started.

So if you’d like to learn a little more about me, my business, and how it all began, get comfy — perhaps with a cup of tea and a biscuit — and settle in for a little story about In The Meadow.

The Garden Gate That Started It All

In The Meadow was officially born as a company in the summer of 2023; however, I truly believe the brand itself began much earlier than this.

As a child, I spent a lot of time outdoors. Weekends were often spent exploring the beautiful beaches and woodlands around Morecambe Bay and the Lake District, and school holidays were frequently spent with my Great Grandma and Great Grandad.

It’s here that In The Meadow truly began.

Stood in front of my Great Grandad's beloved shed

Ivy, my Great Grandma, had a deep love for her garden, an incredible knowledge of the plants she nurtured, and a tender affection for the animals that called her garden home — blackbirds, robins, wrens, and even a family of hedgehogs that appeared on their front porch every year.

Alec, my Great Grandad, was a creatively practical soul. He stored pieces of old wood and other 'found' (or sought out) treasures, built a dream tree swing in their apple tree, and created a beautiful mosaic around the windows of his shed, using sea glass, pottery, and shells collected on walks along the beach.

Together, they created a magical garden — full of hidden corners, beautiful flowers, statues, and bird feeders. It really did feel like something out of The Secret Garden.

And, much like the secret garden, whose gates led from Misselthwaite Manor onto the Yorkshire moors, at the end of their garden sat a rustic fence, with a gate leading into sprawling fields (or as some might call it, a meadow) where we would sneak off to play in the long grass before a grown-up called us back in for dinner.

Posing with my sister in front of Ivy's lovely lupins

Ivy was also a lover of arts and crafts. Her house overflowed with vintage tins full of fabric, wool, needles, pins, and buttons. Her living room shelves were stacked with well-thumbed arts, craft, and nature books, including Victorian Posy: Penhaligons Scented Treasury of Verse and Prose and The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady, which now both take pride of place on my bookshelf at home.

One of my most treasured possessions

Growing up around Ivy and Alec not only instilled in me a love for nature, but a deep-rooted creativity. From a young age, I loved creating with my hands — drawing, sewing, or knitting little gifts for those I loved. And so, when the time came, I chose to study Art and Design at Kendal College.

I loved every second of college (a welcome change after a tricky few years in secondary school). However, unsure of exactly what I wanted to do next, I had a short stint working in a local pottery studio, running children’s workshops, before I eventually put my dream of a creative life aside, and began studying to be a primary school teacher.

Graduation at Carlisle Cathedral

A Chapter That Didn’t Quite Fit

If I’m honest, teaching never really felt like a good fit. It was hard — much harder than it should’ve been. I lacked confidence in myself and my leadership abilities (essential when dealing with 30+ kids at a time), and every task, from the tiny to the meaty, took me longer than everyone else. But after investing four years at university and thousands of pounds in a teaching degree, I felt trapped. So I stuck at it for seven long years — until the very end of my maternity leave, when the craving for a creative life once again took over.

Sleep deprived and dreaming of a creative life

I returned to my teaching role and kept my head down for just three months (just enough to avoid repaying maternity pay) and at the first opprtunity, I handed in my notice - the first day back after the Christmas holidays. I wasn’t 100% certain what I would do next, but I'd had an idea.

It wasn’t a new idea. Years earlier, I’d passed a lovely florist shop on the bus and thought how lovely it would be to do that for a living. In my first year of teaching, I revisited the idea when I discovered that one of my teaching assistants, the wonderful Ruthie Woodhouse, did floristry alongside her work in schools and I found myself equally envious and curious about her life outside school.

Although I had considered floristry multiple times before, it had always felt out of reach. But this time, it felt different. A seed had been planted, spread its roots deep, and it felt as though it had well and truly taken hold.

Biting the Bullet

Whilst looking into my options to retrain, I came across Tallulah Rose Flower School —which just so happened to be just ten minutes from my house! Excited by the prospect of a way into floristry, I signed up for the open day… only to find it was full. Disappointed, I emailed Rachel, who upon hearing of my hopes to join the summer career change course for that year, very kindly squeezed me in.

In the lead-up to the day, I was unbelievably anxious - to the point of talking myself out of attending. Looking back, I think I was scared to feel inspired. It might sound ridiculous — as surely this is exactly what you want? But I think this fear was rooted in the realisation, that once inspired, I wouldn't be able to turn back. That I'd have to do the work - work that felt indulgent, costly and had absolutely no guarantee of working out the way that I hoped.

But once I stepped into flower school, something clicked and all of a sudden, those “What ifs” were drowned out by a deafening “ But, what if you don’t?”

And that’s when I realised, I was going to need a name.

Embracing my inner Frida Kahlo at Tallulah Rose

Why I Chose the Name In The Meadow

I think most people assume that I chose the name In The Meadow purely due to aesthetics. Whilst it does help attract my ideal clients, who want a more relaxed and natural style, the name In The Meadow actually has a few more layers of meaning that are really close to my heart.

The first relates to my name. Although known to most as Ash, my full name is Ashlea which translates to “Ash Meadow” and is thought to be associated with a lifelong connection to nature — and to qualities like strength, resilience, and growth. I really love this and wanted to find a way to incorporate it into my business.

The second, and most important to me, is the connection to that gate within my Great Grandparents garden, and to Ivy and Alec themselves.

Anyone who knew them, would agree that their house, garden, and the little meadow beyond it were more than just a patch of land; they were a sanctuary. A place bursting with life, creativity, and safety for anyone who needed it — human or otherwise.

They taught me to notice small details, to appreciate the wild and untamed, and that nature can nurture us in the most unexpected ways.

In The Meadow isn’t just a name. It’s a reminder of where I come from, the people who shaped me, and the kind of work and experience I want to bring to every flower, every bouquet, and every client I meet.

For Ivy and Alec Graham

Lucky to have known them. Even luckier to have been loved by them.