The Smell of Summer Grass by Adam Nicolson

This book starts at a low point in the author’s life: his first marriage has failed, as has a business he had been running; he has abandoned a book he was writing; and following an unhappy dinner with his stepfather he is mugged on the way home.

He becomes depressed and inactive for months, but very gradually and with the help of his second wife, the gardening and food writer Sarah Raven, he slowly recovers.

Together they search for a rural retreat and a fresh start, and find Perch Hill Farm in Sussex in 1994. The farm is rundown and in need of a lot of work and money, but the location is wonderful; tucked away and yet overlooking spectacular Wealden scenery. They take it on, and this is the story of the development of the farm (and themselves) from then to the present.

Nicolson has written a very personal account of his journey from mugging to inner peace, drawing together in part some work published earlier, from Perch Hill and his newspaper columns. There’s little of Raven’s own activities early on, but it’s clear that she’s ambitious and drives on her plans for the flower garden and cookery school at the farm while supporting her husband and mothering their two girls.

Nicolson concentrates on getting the farm back into working order, with the help of some locals, and has considerable success, although their rural enterprises are financially underpinned by writing and broadcasting incomes. There are inevitable setbacks, and a tricky problem with a neighbour whose lane needs asphalting, but Nicolson copes well, gaining inner strength from his experiences.

He immerses himself in farm improvement, be it chopping off the heads of thistles, learning how to lay a decent hedge, bringing back Sussex livestock or making sweet hay. He enjoys roaming his land, remembering childhood experiences at Sissinghurst but being much more involved this time. There are interesting reflections on Kipling, who had lived nearby and described recognisable parts of the countryside near Perch Hill Farm in Puck of Pook’s Hill.

Overall, it’s a delightful and absorbing read, not least for the descriptions of ‘doing up’ a ramshackle place to fulfil a dream, something to be proud of, but mainly for Nicolson’s writing about his inner journey. It is like reading a private diary: honest, amusing, at times moving and thought-provoking, and always interesting.