The sun has got his hat on, hip-hip-hip hoo- oh, hang on, he’s put it back on. But we’ve had a few lovely days, just what I wished for: sunny, crisp, cold. At first it simply stopped raining, and we were able to get on with the pruning:
and then, and then, and then the sun came out and the garden – well, it basked. That’s the only way of expressing it; you could almost hear the collective sigh of relief and happiness. And it wasn’t just me:
The crocuses are coming up all over. Early (but of course), though I’m not complaining. Not at all. They’re springing up in amongst fallen leaves,
and materialising in the grass of the meadow. Some of them no sooner came up than the birds pecked their tops off, but hey.
I have friends who don’t like crocuses (you know who you are; I will spare your blushes in the face of such celebratory loveliness, but how can you?).
I’m really glad I don’t feel like that, as most of these were inherited and it would have been nightmarish to try and remove them. They’re completely naturalised now.
And then there are the snowdrops which are just popping up. They don’t seem to be developing long stems this year, but it’s early days. I know of snowdrop-counters – not criticising; I count daffodils, after all – but how do they do it? You deadhead or pick daffs, so it’s easy. This doesn’t look quite so straightforward:
There are many, many clumps, mostly less than two inches high. What’s going on? A response to the mild weather?
And talking of responses to the mild weather, I’ve got a hebe flowering. See:
Admittedly, there are only a few flowers, but this is wrong. Also wrong – in my opinion – was the fact that my huge Helleborus foetidus decided to give up the ghost last year, but I noticed that it has thrown up a solitary flower spike. So far I’ve taken about twenty photographs of it, just in case this is its last flowering.
I do love hellebores, but I haven’t got many. Now there’s something I’d like to add to my new bed.
Another reason to be cheerful is the Viburnum x bodnantense. It’s been flowering madly and scenting the lane behind the garden for months. Months. I can hear passers-by sniffing appreciatively sometimes, and there’s the occasional comment.
One of the major weaknesses of t’internet is that you can’t smell anything. Shame. And it’s even more covered with flowers now; I keep thinking it will stop soon, but I do hope it doesn’t. I know I’m not normally a pink person, but this is making me change my mind – it’s so soft and comforting, like a light but snuggly fluffy jumper. I think I may have to introduce a little more pink.
What am I thinking?
I knew as soon as I began that line of thought that it was time to do something else, and there’s another reason to be cheerful – walks on the beach in something other than a howling gale and drizzle.
Magnificent. Blue sky, blue sky!
(I can’t bear to categorise this post as ‘winter’, so it’s spring. Definitely. Because I say so.)