Tucked away behind tall rusty red brick walls lies the enchanting Chelsea Physic Garden. I spent a rainy February morning meandering the greenhouses with a roll of Portra 400 loaded into my film camera.

My childhood friend, who works at the garden, gave me a guided tour to start with. He explained that for most of its life the garden was an outdoor classroom for apothecaries to learn about plant medicine. Many of the plants studied were brought over from British colonies, often taken from indigenous communities. I like that the garden makes an effort to educate its visitors about this, rather than glaze over it. That such a beautiful space has uglier roots is an important reminder of our relationship to each other and to plants. And when I look at the rugged bark of the old olive tree and the overhanging branches bearing pomegranates, browned and crinkled from the winter months, their patina says all it needs to about their past.

Opening the door to the the tropical greenhouse, you’re hit with the humid fragrance of earthy soil mixed with the musky teak of the wooden structure; an instantly calming scent. Even in midwinter, there are soft smudges of green around every bend. Sitting in its own microclimate, the garden is preserved as a quiet haven from the noises of the city and its seen painters, plant lovers and local residents enjoying its diversity for decades. It’s a place that makes you feel you can breathe a little better than you did before you went in.