AT the last count, my uncle had recorded 86 species of plant in flower over the weekend. They ranged from the normal cultivated plants, such as the wallflower, lupin and delphinium; through to the more exotic species like the fragrant daisy bush and ten-foot tall echium; down to the tiny wild sea spurry, scarlet pimpernel and fleshy navelwort.

Admittedly, the climate is slightly warmer down in Devon (touching 30 degrees down on the beach last weekend) than up here in the North-East.

We were having a large family reunion in the farmhouse that once belonged to my grandfather (now turned into a fabulous holiday cottage, along with a series of equally tasteful barn conversions). For most of us, it had been many years since we had last visited, as the farm was sold on about 20 years ago, but we all had our own very fond memories of the place. It is certain smells that flash my mind back to childhood holidays spent on the farm, and in particular the scent of thyme.

The lawn was a long, curving, sloping one that ran from the back of the property right round to the front garden. We used to dare each other to ride our skate boards (and in the case of my younger brother, his action man tank) as far and as fast as we could down the lawn without coming too close the extremely dangerous cliff precipice that dropped away from the front of the house. This 'track of death' was bounded on one side by a huge mound of thyme bushes.

In summer, when the warm air and the sun heated up the oils within the plant cells, the scent of thyme would fill the air.

Thyme is a very healing and uplifting plant. It brings happiness, energy and inspiration, and for me, is associated with very free and positive times.

One of the most stunning floral displays I came across over the weekend was down on one of the quieter beaches just below the cliffs that drop away from the garden. Most of us have come across sea holly eringium. It was a one of the fashionable plants a few years ago, but we probably only grew a handful of them in the garden. I know I planted a clump of five in the borders at Natures World, and that looked bountiful when in full display.

Down on the beach, though, the floor was absolutely covered.

They began at the line where the dune grass ended and continued over the sand, shale and shells up to the point where gently lapping waves met the land at high tide. They created a pale green and lilac-blue carpet that looked surreal but absolutely stunning (although the dog had to be carried over them, as the sharply spiked leaves were just too much for her sensitive feet).

The one plant that I don't remember from my childhood beach combing days was the valerian that clothed the cliff faces in fluffy swathes of red, pink and white. This isn't the true valerian that is used in sedatives. It's real name is centranthus, and it has to be one of the most successfully colonising garden escapees that we have in this country. Once one of the feathery seed heads gets into a crack or crevice, there is no destroying the plant.

It will bring down walls and pull up tarmac with its fleshy but powerful roots.

Admittedly though, it is a pretty addition to the countryside, even though it may have driven out more indigenous species. The secret to controlling the plant is to cut the flower heads off before they have time to set seed.

Sea fronts are often barren of floral decoration, but here there was the sea holly, the valerian, thrift, large headed daisies, sea beet and, best of all, samphire.

This is an edible plant that clings to rocks and soil below the tidal zones. It is fleshy, salty and muskily aromatic, and is often fed to specially reared sheep and cattle, as it adds an earthy flavour to the meat.

We, on the other hand, collected sea lettuce and carrageen (sea weeds), winkles and shrimps from the rock pools (the crab had to be thrown back because it started eating the shrimps in the bucket), which were all duly processed back at base into a tasty memorial evening meal. I suppose you could call it a real 'pooled' supper.

READER'S QUESTION

MR Robinson, from Hartlepool, would like to try to grow carrots again this year. He tried last year but they remained stunted and forked. He wants to know what he has to do to get them to grow long and straight.

THE problem is quite a simple one, but can be for any of a number of reasons. The ground may just be too hard and compacted for the roots to grow down through. Stones and lumps in the soil cause the same thing. Any newly added manure will also have the same effect.

The way round all of these is to prepare your soil the autumn before you intend to sow carrot seed. Dig it over, incorporating well-rotted and friable manure, and continue to remove any grit and debris. Alternatively, create a raised bed and fill it with fine compost and sand.

POSTSCRIPT

Brigid works on the 'Health for All' team for Easington Primary Care Trust. She presents 'Ask about Gardening' every Sunday on BBC Radio Cleveland from 12-2pm. She can be reached online at brigidpress@hotmail. com