I’ve established I can do Wordless Wednesdays if I want to, and I did intend to do one today. But in the end I decided to approach wordlessness instead, as it were. The sun came out, and that was far too exciting for me to shut up. OK, it didn’t hang about, being blown away quite promptly, but it did materialise and I have the evidence:
There are quite a few standard yellow primroses out, but not many of my coloured variants. This is my little friend, which reliably flowers among paving stones for months. I can only presume that there’s something about the shelter provided by the loose slate slabs that makes it possible. There’s just the one, but soon the meadow will be covered in shades of pink, red, apricot, yellows…
At the moment, it’s starting to do white, and I don’t (phew) mean snow.
It’s getting quite dangerous to walk across the meadow. Many of the bulbs are up but aren’t yet particularly tall, so if you are – for instance, can’t think why this leapt to mind, ahem – staggering across the meadow with a load of logs, you’re quite likely to commit dafficide, or at least dafftrampling.
During the winter we’ve managed to wear a muddy track beside the major run of snowdrops, but have happily avoided most of them. Phew.
And they’re popping up all over. In places they’ve not been before, so perhaps I’ve reached some sort of snowdrop tipping point. I do hope so.
(Yes, I have noticed all the forget-me-not seedlings and I’m leaving them where they are. I may move a few. Possibly…) Even the doubles are spreading, though they’re the slowest and are still only in tight little buds on inch-high stems.
And other things are beginning to stick their heads over the winter parapet, too. I noticed, for example, the beginnings of the fennel fronds:
Not quite enough for me to contemplate using them in the kitchen, but that moment won’t be far off. There’s one enormous disadvantage to all this growth though.
It doesn’t just apply to the plants you want. Hm.