by James Alexander-Sinclair
Wandering around this morning I have noticed that spring has been inching in under cover of the bad weather.
After all the winds and rain that swept through earlier in the week (and which washed away poor Pippa's iris) a calm has descended on this part of the world.
Wandering around this morning I've noticed that spring has been inching in under cover of the bad weather.
Driving along you can see that the hedgerows, instead of being grey and twiggy, are now patchworked with a haze of emerging green - the hawthorn starts first. The leaf litter and mud through which we walk in the woods every morning are no longer brown, but covered with the tufts of emerging bluebell leaves.
In the garden the mulch (about which I wrote the other day) is no longer a quiet brown duvet over everything but is now pierced by alliums, anthriscus, aconites and loads of other plants right through the alphabet to Zigadenus elegans (one of the best plant names - also known as the death lily).
There is a long, long list of things that are on the move ...
The sticky buds of the horse chestnut are as taut as the tummies of overfed puppies.
My pear ('Fondante Automne') has little fuzzy buds.
There are pussies on the goat willows (and a fuzz of lime green on the weeping willow).
And the peach (thanks to some nifty fleece wielding during the frosty nights) looks absolutely fantastic.
It is a great time of year - so much anticipation and such a short time to wait. Go out there and see things - those who rush past huddled in coats and looking at the floor miss so much.
