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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

Spring is here, although nobody seems to have told the weather department yet. This week's biting easterly wind felt more like standing at a Siberian bus stop than April in an English country garden.However, the evidence of spring is out

This week is the Malvern Spring Show and the first big Royal Horticultural Society flower show of the year. This is always a fun show not least because the setting is so remarkably beautiful. As you approach the show ground from the pretty town

closes, if you look closely then spring is visible everywhere. We have buds fattening as quickly as a troupe of bun-loving chubbies and the pointy shoots of bulbs push themselves through the cold soil. These are stark reminders that soon things will need

to inject a note of optimism the second picture, below, is of the same area in May - so all is not lost).Now is the time start the big chop back in readiness for the spring. Over the next few weeks I will be cutting back pretty much everything, pruning roses

europaea) are the most delicious colour when young and feel soft and slightly damp and newborn. Sadly they quickly become leathery and the home of many millions of aphids which then proceed to drip honeydew onto anything parked beneath them.Spring is here

I think it is time for another deeply prejudiced personal rant about my least favourite plants. Spring is, if not exactly just around the corner, then definitely packed, dressed and on its way. With the spring comes the return to our gardens

with daffodils in an almost unquenchable variety of shapes and colours, almost all of them shades of yellow. Given the joys of this or this or this or (almost) any one of the 20,000 available varieties, why choose a forsythia for your spring hit of yellow?It also

I do love the garden in October - especially in the sunshine. In the early Spring it is all about hope and waiting: all that mulch and neatly tidied brown border. A month or so later and there is green stuff and bulbs all over the place. Then we

, covered in white flowers which, come the autumn, turn into deep red berries, or haws. They also make spectacular trees that reach about 5m in 10 years - although if left alone they can reach 18m. They're fantastically gnarly and twisted and every wild