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“The girls seemed unconcerned and went about their days, each as lovely in their own way as the flowers they tended. Sorrel's black hair became streaked with premature white, which gave her an exotic air, although the elegance was somewhat ruined by the muddy jeans and shorts she practically lived in. Nettie, on the other hand, had a head of baby-fine blonde hair that she wore short, thinking, wrongly, that it would look less childlike. Nettie wouldn't dream of being caught in dirty jeans and was always crisply turned out in khaki capris or a skirt and a white shirt. She considered her legs to be her finest feature. She was not wrong.
Patience was the sole Sparrow redhead, although her hair had deepened from its childhood ginger and was now closer to the color of a chestnut. It was heavy and glossy as a horse's mane, and she paid absolutely no attention to it or to much else about her appearance, nor did she have to. In the summer her wide-legged linen trousers and cut-off shorts were speckled with dirt and greenery, her camisoles tatty and damp. The broad-brimmed hat she wore to pick was most often dangling from a cord down her back. As a result, the freckles that feathered across her shoulders and chest were the color of caramel and resistant to her own buttermilk lotion (Nettie smoothed it on Patience whenever she could make her stand still). When it was terribly hot, Patience wore the sundresses she'd found packed away in the attic. She knew they were her mother's, and she liked to imagine how happy Honor had been in them.”
― Ellen Herrick, The Sparrow Sisters

“The sisters were all gifted gardeners so Sorrel wasn't terribly worried about her beloved flowers. Patience's herbs were in fine form, Nettie's fruits and vegetables were well on their way, and now Sorrel's blooms would have the best start they could without her capable hands to see them into June.”
― Ellen Herrick, The Forbidden Garden

“Sorrel always thought herself happy in the little village by the sea. She was content among her flowers and specimen trees, the extraordinary roses and lilacs, sweet peas and hydrangeas that bloomed- somehow simultaneously and for months beyond reason- in the Nursery. She found great pleasure in picking the pears, cherries, and apples for Nettie's tarts, the tender young peas and beans, the lettuce so green it glowed, and the nasturtiums and violas that her sister used in her salads. She was grateful for Patience's remedies on the rare occasion when she felt ill. But Sorrel's hands were happiest deep in the soil and curled around the stems of the flowers she grew and arranged.”
― Ellen Herrick, The Forbidden Garden

“Just as Patience read the people in Granite Point, searching for the troubled bits in their bodies or hearts, and Nettie collected the harvest and composed meals that sustained the very same parts, Sorrel wove her plants and flowers into a tapestry of her own, first in her imagination, then on paper using watercolors and ink to bring a garden to life. Then, when everything was ready, each bulb accounted for, each tender sapling and fragile seedling, Sorrel poured that knowledge, and her body and heart, into the fertile soil.”
― Ellen Herrick, The Forbidden Garden

“Andrew sifted through the photos: lush, sprawling gardens of herbs and flowers, others dotted with crabapple trees, woodbine, and hawthorn- not that he could name anything. Sorrel leaned over her shoulder and brushed against Andrew's hand. He shivered and pushed it away. For a moment he thought that the gardens in the pictures had come to life as Sorrel's scent drifted over him. She smelled of summer and sea with a whisper of something he couldn't name, familiar and strange at once. He didn't know that Patience Sparrow had concocted special cologne for Sorrel's trip. It was made of privet blossom, new green grass, lime, and the smallest hint of patchouli and had been the last she packed.”
― Ellen Herrick, The Forbidden Garden

“She might have managed to swerve through the crowds to rescue Henry, but that tray of oysters came by and she was distracted. She took one and a lemon, squeezing it so hard the juice stung her eye. 'Fair price,' she thought as she tipped the oyster into her mouth.
It slid down her throat, with an echo of the sea, the siren song of salt and rock and dark depths.”
― Ellen Herrick, The Sparrow Sisters