I’m sitting on a bench on the edge of a woodland. The sky is heavy with clouds in shades of grey, rain is threatening. The dandelions and daisies have curled themselves up tight – ‘refurled’ to keep cold and water at bay. In the wood there are saplings by the dozen hopefully pushing up through the soil, their first true leaves soft and green against the dark woodland floor. In stereo the birds sing an evensong from every tree, it is a harmonious dusk soundscape. Only one yellow wood anemone remains, all the others now returned to the earth for another year. The daffodils too are finished, the bright yellow flowers replaced by swollen green heads of seed.Read More
It’s cold and rainy, I’m sitting at my desk in the shop looking at the grey, Tupperware sky and leafless trees. On Western Road cars slowly roll past with headlights on and windscreen wipers flicking back and forth. Outside it is less than lovely. It is the point in the year that is neither Winter nor Spring. After the leaves and before the riot of bulbs erupt to welcome colour back into the garden. Before the Daphne odora aureomarginata opens her perfect flowers to release a scent that captivates the senses and needs only one tiny sprig to scent an entire room.