A labour of love
It may be hard to imagine now, but when Anne Ward arrived at Gayton, her newly minted husband, Mark, was inordinately proud that there was wheat growing up to the front verandah. Anne suggested that a garden might be nice and, at the time, constructing a fence with a radius of about 10 metres from what was then a ripple-iron cottage with an outdoor loo and copper for doing the laundry seemed a massive commitment. The garden, however, grow’d like Topsy and
