"If poverty had been the keynote of the convent buildings, its garden was redolent of wealth. There was, even here, certain evidence of monastic austerity, in that no flowers grew for the sake of their beauty alone, but the formal beds beneath the peach trees were rich with thyme and lavender and purple rosemary, while the feet of the pear and apple trees, espaliered on the surrounding walls, stood deep in a silver drift of sage. A row of apricot trees lent support to a disciplined riot of vines; below it, in careful ranks, fading stems were weighted with the fabulous red of tomatoes. There was even a pair of orange trees, standing sentinel at the end of a box-bordered path, looking, with their symmetrical heads hung with glossy green fruit, for all the world like guardians of some fantastic gateway to fairytale, or to the herb-garden pictured on some faded medieval page ... basil, vervain, borage; saffron, hyssop, juniper; violet for heart's-ease, and blue clary and the little lemon thyme ... Over all hung the scent of spices and warm earth, and the resinous smell of the near pine-woods mingled sleepily with the fragrance of lavender. Not a bird sang, but the air was loud with bees."
The picture is of my own garden in summer - appropriate in once sense as my house used to be a convent, although what you see there owes more to these people than to the Sisters who lived here once upon a time.