Begin with what has already fallen

The best pressed-flower keepsakes start with something the walk has already given up. A bloom that has dropped onto the path, a windfall from a hedgerow, a buttercup knocked sideways by a dog. Picking is tempting, but a fallen petal is kinder to the verge and, frankly, presses better — it has already begun to lose moisture, so it dries flat with less wrinkling. Look for small, thin, single-layered flowers: speedwell, herb robert, scarlet pimpernel, buttercup, daisy, violet, or a single floret from a cow parsley head. Avoid anything thick or fleshy — a bluebell stem or a damp dandelion head will go brown and mouldy before it dries.

Choose one, not five. The point of the keepsake is that it marks a particular afternoon in a particular place, and one flower does that better than a bundle. Cup it in your palm, check it for insects, and let it breathe for a minute.

The small kit worth carrying

You do not need a press. You need a book, some absorbent paper and a little patience. A pocket-sized kit that lives in your daypack works well:

• Two squares of blotting paper, or a folded sheet of plain kitchen paper. Blotting paper is better; kitchen paper works and is easy to replace.
• A small piece of stiff card to carry the flower home flat without crushing it.
• A pencil — not a pen, which can smudge if the paper is damp.
• An envelope or a small zip bag for anything you want to identify later.

At home you will want a heavy book — a dictionary, an old atlas, a cookbook you never use — and something extra to weigh it down if the flower is stiff.

Pressing it properly

Lay the flower face down between two sheets of blotting paper, arranging the petals with the tip of a pencil so they sit naturally and do not overlap. Overlapping petals trap moisture and leave dark patches. If the stem is thicker than the petals, snip it short or split it with a fingernail so it lies level.

Slide the sandwich into the middle of the book, somewhere near the back where the pages are tight, and put the book on a firm shelf. Add weight on top. Then leave it alone for three to four weeks. Resist checking it every day — every time you open the book you let in damp air and disturb the petals.

If you live somewhere humid, change the blotting paper after the first week, replacing it with dry sheets and returning the flower carefully to the same position. A flower is ready when it feels papery and stiff, not leathery or cool to the touch.

Mounting it on a card

Cut a piece of card roughly the size of a postcard. Plain white or off-white is best; anything acidic will yellow the flower over the years. Handle the dried flower with tweezers or two clean knives — fingers carry oils that stain.

Attach it with tiny hinges rather than glue. Cut two narrow strips of gummed paper, dampen them, and lay them across the stem, one near the base and one near the head. It means the flower can be lifted later if you want to see the underside.

Then write, in pencil or waterproof ink:

• The place — a name, and a grid reference if you know it.
• The date.
• The weather and the time of day.
• One line about what you noticed. "Chiffchaff singing upstream." "First brimstone of the year."

That last line is what turns a pressed flower into a record.

Storing it, and giving it a page in your journal

Keep the card flat, out of direct sunlight and away from damp. A shoebox, a wooden drawer or a sturdy envelope will do. Add a sachet of silica gel if the room is at all humid, and check the box once a year for the small grey moths that like dried plant material.

If you keep a nature journal, this is the natural home for the card. Hinge it onto a page and write around it — the route you took, the sound of the stream at the bend, the way the light came through the hedge. Pressed flowers and journal pages age together, and both fade a little, which is part of their charm.

One card per walk is plenty. Do it often enough and you will end up with a shoebox of afternoons, each one dated and named.