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As I grew older, the tale of the woman herself became even more compelling than those of her creations: a strict upbringing by parents who were not at all keen on her choosing a profession rather than a suitable husband. The romantic attachment to Norman Warne, the son of her publisher, who tragically died before they could be married. Her subsequent marriage to William Heelis, a Lake District solicitor, and her move from London to the shores of her beloved Windermere.

Mrs Heelis, as she then preferred to be called, was something of an enigma. A woman who gradually stopped writing stories and turned to breeding Herdwick sheep. A woman who spurned fame but devoted the proceeds of her bestselling children's books to buying up chunks of the Lake District and handing them over to the fledgling National Trust so that they would be protected for future generations. The present appearance of "Cumbria" owes much to her in terms of its conservation measures. Her legacy is in landscape as much as in children's literature.

As to horticulture, I remember admiring the rhubarb that still grows inside the wrought iron gate at Hill Top Farm, Sawrey, and which features in The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck. The various paintings of gardens within the tales – cabbages in Mr McGregor's garden and the walled garden itself which was apparently inspired by the one at Camfield Place in Hertfordshire and which eventually became the home of Dame Barbara Cartland. The two women might seem to be miles apart, culturally as well as geographically, but both were indomitable in their own way and, although polar opposites in terms of taste, I suspect they would have had a sneaking admiration for each other's tenacity.

In her new book, Beatrix Potter's Gardening Life, Marta McDowell expands our knowledge of Miss Potter/Mrs Heelis's horticultural expertise and background, explaining what she grew and where. There are photographs here that I have never seen before of Beatrix and her gardens, and delicious watercolours of rose hips and violets, clematis and honeysuckle, snapdragons and waterlilies – with and without rabbits, frogs and guileless ducks.

The book offers a peep at an aspect of Beatrix's life that remained important to her until the end, and reminds us of our debt to the young London girl who became, in her latter years, a crusty Cumbrian (how she would have hated the loss of "Cumberland and Westmorland"). She was the Lake District's greatest champion and the saviour of its divine landscape. She was also, as this books shows, a happy cottage gardener.

On charge

How I wish that the mobile phone companies – be they Apple or Nokia, Samsung or whoever – would get together and decide on one universal connector for their chargers. I have a drawer full of redundant ones. Believe me, I would stick to the same phone for years if it did not become obsolete, or the screen did not crack, or the thing did not refuse to work at all. Try to get it repaired and they ask if you have an insurance policy. At £16 a month, no thanks. And then a new model comes out every year and with it a new fitting on the end of the wire. It's a waste of resources apart from anything else and a frustration when it comes to finding the right one in the drawer of spaghetti. Surely they cost so little, and the profits of the companies must be so large that they can afford to stick with just one type? I live in hope, though I suspect that hope is futile.

'Beatrix Potter's Gardening Life' by Marta McDowell is £14.99 + £1.35 p&p from Telegraph Books (0844 871 1514)