To flourish is to grow vigorously, thrive, prosper or be successful. These grape hyacinths have really flourished since I first planted them.

Flourishing something is to brandish it or wave it vigorously, or to show it ostentatiously. An elaborate expression, rhetorical embellishment or ornamentally curved handwriting could all be considered to add a flourish to your writing. (But not necessarily, especially those first two)

A fanfare played on brass is sometimes known as a flourish, as is an improvised addition at the end of a musical composition.

I hope you’re well, in top form and a real flourisher!

Beyond The Garden Wall is my latest collection of plant, flower and gardening themed stories, and it’s currently on special offer.

Here’s the blurb –

Mike accuses Chloe of jumping to conclusions, creating chaos and dragging others along with her. Annoyingly he’s right. Geoff’s in no rush to tackle the wisteria. They’ve got all the time in the world for that – which is precisely what’s worrying his wife. Freya’s broken arm means she can’t enter the flower arranging competition herself. Even so, she’s not going to let Celia get away with her usual tricks.

Barbara gives her step-granddaughter a gift which just might give her a lifetime of happiness. Hospital rules mean Henry can’t take flowers to Millie, so how can he carry out The Idea? Colin is quiet and doesn’t really do much, but he has the gift of getting Cynthia out of unwanted situations.

Rhonda is a little sad to be leaving the garden she’s developed for over fifty years, but discovers a perfect alternative. Maria’s garden is looking better than ever – but who or what answered her plea for help with the design? The conservatory is as much of a wreck as Ginny, restoring one brings back the other’s joy.

Gardens, flowers, plants and people all have their stories. Beyond the garden wall is where you’ll find these tales.

This is my fifth such collection. The others in the set are Up The Garden Path, Through The Garden Gate, In The Garden Air and Over The Garden Fence.

From today until 22nd October both the ebook version and the paperback of Beyond The Garden Wall are reduced by at least £1 / $1 when bought from Amazon.

Tumbledown means falling, or fallen, into dilapidation. To me it sounds nicer than neglected, devastated, destroyed or ruined.

The castle is Tarbert in Scotland. There are a lot of Scots towns and villages with the name Tarbert or Tarbet. That word means a narrow strip of land. It’s quite often where two lochs meet.

There you go – two words for the price of one! You can’t say I’m not good to you. Well, you could I suppose but I can’t hear you from here.

My story Lover’s Leap, is in the November issue of Take a Break’s Fiction Feast, which should be in the shops now.

This tale was prompted by my trip to Ireland earlier this year (see, Mrs Tax Inspector, swanning about in the campervan is a perfectly legitimate business expense). We visited Loop Head, where as well as a lighthouse there’s a large chunk of rock which has broken away from the mainland. This is home to a variety of seabirds. The picture is of me attempting to get a shot of the chicks.

The birds are perfectly safe as predators (except other birds) and people can’t reach them. However there’s a legend about someone jumping across. That story and much more about the area can be found here. Gary and I have visited quite a few castles and natural features where it’s claimed people have made impossible leaps, often for love. I’m almost certain at least some of the stories were made up, so I decided to add one of my own.

A lodestar is a star used to help navigate at sea. It’s usually the polestar, but not neccesarily. It can also be a guiding principle, or object of pursuit.

A lode is a vein of metal ore. Presumably some lodestars have lodes. Perhaps even loads of them.

My story, Luck On Her Side, is in the Autumn Special issue of The People’s Friend. As you can probably guess from the title and illustration, the story is about luck. I got the idea after hearing someone say ‘you were lucky’ to a friend who’d suffered a minor mishap. Of course they meant he was lucky not to have been more seriously inconvenienced, but it got me thinking – can what initially seem like bad luck actually be the opposite?

It can of course, in fiction at least. Not only did I get to use that idea in the story, but I also managed to work in some poetry. That’s not a strong point of mine, so I have to come up with ingenious ways to try to get it published. On this occasion, I was lucky!

A lark is a small brown bird which sings as it flies. You have to look up to see them, but not neccesarily early in the morning.

Larking around is behaving in a playful or mischevious way. A lark can be something done for fun, but is often considered silly or a waste of time. As a lark, a former colleague made me this map.

I somehow missed seeing my story A Game Of Conkers in the 17th September issue of My Weekly. Not sure how as I was notified when it would appear.

Fortunately I stumbled across it online while looking for something else. I’m glad I did as I always like to see the illustrations used – and of course my words and name in print.

A scar is the mark left on our skin after a wound has healed, or on our mind after an unpleasant event. If I were to show you a photo of my operation scars* while the staples were still in, I reckon you’d be scarred (and maybe scared too!).

A scar also the mark left on a plant stem after a leaf is removed. Plants can be scarred deliberately, by scratching them. When I was a kid, my dad scratched my and my brother’s names on tiny marrows in letters so small we couldn’t see them until the fruit swelled and the scars were clearly visible.

A scar is also a steep cliff or outcrop of rock. I think the word escarpment may be connected, but I’m not sure. I’m also not sure if this bit of rock is actually a scar**, but it’s a nice picture isn’t it?

*It was a long time ago, there’s not much to see now.

** Geography was never my strong point.