The Arrival of Spring - 2013

Last year spring arrived early and I had decided to use April 22nd, Earth Day and the anniversary of my grandmother's birth to record how things were coming along in the garden. I wasn't all that sure that doing this year on year would prove to be very interesting but at least I would have a record of what an early spring looked like in our garden. How wrong I was! This year's very cold and gloomy March and early April has made a significant difference. Last night as I was looking through last year's shots to see what to photograph today, I had a feeling there would be rather a lot of bare twig photography. This is what I found.

The 'Freckle Face' violets that were flowering so well have only just managed the first bud - on the upper right, in case you have missed it.

The plum blossom was finished this time last year but up until about ten days ago the branches were quite bare and now there are just the beginnings of buds.

That's more than can be said for the apple trees. No glorious blossom, just a few green shoots and a lot of brown fence to see here.

The auricula has buds - closely bunched down there at the base of the leaves.

The clematis still has flowers with little sign yet of the silky seed tassels.

Not even the babiest of rose buds! Some of the first foliage to break through was frost bitten by the March snow, so understandably it has been held back.

The rhubarb is only just pushing up out of the soil. Admittedly I have seen rhubarb in other people's gardens which is more advanced than ours - no idea why. Perhaps it is the variety.

About the only thing that is at pretty much the same stage as it was this time last year is the little wild violet.

But lifting my spirits are the cowslips I planted last year. So pretty, I hope they make themselves well and truly at home here.
No matter how cold and gloomy winter has been, there always comes that day when you step outside to work in the garden and you realise you won't really need a fleecy jacket. The sky is clear and the still bare branches make soft vein shadows on the grass. The breeze is just enough to make the yellow and white flowers shimmer. Your eye is caught by the gently erratic flight of brimstone wings and you try to identify the bird song around you as you work. Then from the distant wood comes a call that makes you stop and strain to hear it again. Is that the first cuckoo?
The wonders of that day are  so very welcome no matter what date the calendar shows.