A garden grows long before you put anything in the ground. A day with Milli Proust and Paris Alma, the growers and seed-savers behind Alma Proust, taught us this: A third of it is dreaming, a third is planning, and the rest is physical — hands in the earth, and going from there.
Milli and Paris each ran their own cutting gardens for years before joining forces. Their studio started as flowers for weddings and private clients and has grown into something broader since. Their aim now: get sustainably-grown flowers in stunning palettes into the hands of florists – and the seeds to grow your own into yours.
On the brightest, bluest afternoon in July, we sat down with the duo at a little iron table — filled with fresh blooms — at their West Sussex farm, to talk about flowers, observing, and growing things on paper.
“One of the most beautiful things about gardening is having spontaneity in the plan.”
On why they write things down
Paris: For a garden, it's all about observing. The soil, the light, the water — where it drains and where it doesn't. And for us, observation is all about taking notes, season to season. You think you'll remember – you won't. Write it down!
Milli: There's a project I've done for ten years now, where I go out into the garden, see what's thriving, and cut a seasonal arrangement — and I always write a note about the weather that week. Now I've got ten years of what was flowering when, and what the weather was doing while it flowered. It's been such an amazing resource.
Paris: We're on our phone so much, so being able to do something on paper and take it outside is so important. That's why we write it down: "Get the netting up." "Do it a week earlier next year." It means we learn from our notes every year.
On spontaneity and Mother Nature
Milli: One of the most beautiful things about gardening is having spontaneity in the plan – because the garden is ephemeral and it changes constantly. No week, or year is the same. With paper, you get to sort of immortalise the plants in some beautiful little way. I love weather journals from hundreds of years ago – gardening might be the closest you can get to travel time.
Paris: We plan a year ahead, sometimes further. And then the ground has its own opinion – a plant falls over, something else succeeds too well and takes the space you meant for another thing! Mother Nature loves to remind us that she's in control. She'll drop a plant into a crack we'd never have chosen, and it's better than anything we'd have dreamed or hoped for.
On saving your own seed
Milli: One thing we love about seeds: they hold the past, the present and the future in one tiny package. If you've not saved your own seed before, the plant will show you when it's ready to give up its seed.
Paris: Yes, sweet peas will be ready to pop – the pod splits open and the seeds spring free. Cosmos curl into a little firework shape. Nigella you can rattle – shake the seed head and you'll hear the seed loose inside. That's when they're ready to pour out.
Collect on a dry day, straight into a paper bag or a mesh one — something breathable. Let them sit for a day or two, sometimes a week, to dry out a little. It's a bit like curing.
Then they're ready to sow – same as the plant would, if it were giving the seed to the ground itself.
On mood boards and visualising
Milli: Inspiration comes from anywhere. Often art galleries. I'll find a colour palette in a painting, then go out and find the flowers to match it. A colour palette I'd never have chosen on my own, if it hadn't started as some kind of spark from a picture. Making a moodboard can really crystalise an idea and give you that clarity on paper, rather than it just swirling around in your head.
Paris: If Milli was a page in the garden journal, she’d be the mood board. She’s the big ideas, the blank page, the ambitious ask. "Paris, can I put nine more beds of roses in here?" I’d definitely be the plant tracker – the space, the logistics, whether nine more rose beds will actually fit!
On tips for beginners
Paris: Grow what you love – that's the only rule. We'd choose sweet peas and violas, probably cosmos. Silene is a good one too, since it self-seeds. For containers: the shorter sweet peas, violas, calendula, nasturtiums. Sometimes it takes a season of notes on what you've grown to know what to choose next.
We plant the violas at the feet of our sweet peas, because sweet peas love cold, moist roots – the violas act as a cover crop, keeping the shade and moisture in. It looks lovely later in the season, too, and means a good crop of violas alongside it. We plant them close together, for long stems we can cut for bouquets.
On beautiful mess
Milli: Our style isn't perfect. We don't trim the grass. We're never that neat. We keep things tidy for our brains, but we want the wildness to come in too — the edges blurry and soft, like a wiggly stem. Going outside, making notes, seeing things and not forgetting — that's the most important part. We prefer nature's hand over our own, so the field looks like a constant conversation between us and her, not us overpowering her. Never too forced.
That carries over to how we write things down, too. Everything's loose. It has to feel beautiful and natural. If the journal gets covered in mud, and a lot of scribbles – so be it. As long as you can decipher it, it's good.
