Waves of sensation
Relishing the succession of spring colour, scent and sound
As I sit here typing to you, the sweet scent of daffodils is drifting over to me from the table to the left of my desk. It’s the first time I’ve dusted off the vases collected from charity shops over the years for our National Garden Scheme open days in our old garden. Since moving to Yorkshire I haven’t used them very much but today, against my fuggy head from weeks of annoying insomnia, I wanted to bring some of spring indoors to cast that fug away.
Winter was mild and wet, the wettest in memory, trapping us indoors, adding to the dark. But this week, right now, warm sun is pouring in on me through the window and I can sense the movement of sap rising through millions of plants outside. Drawn upward by the sun from the ground to burble around their expanding leaves and stems, generating their energy to grow.
This week in the garden I’ve begun my circuits, round and round the plot, spying on the plants re-emerging all over the place. I’m drawn to do this out of curiosity and fun, I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to, which I don’t. It’s exciting watching what’s growing, from the plants I remember to those surprises I don’t. Each time I pop out, I notice something else, silver allium shoots next to exotic Sanguisorba leaves, the first shoot of Veronicastrum, the second set of leaves on the Astrantia, the first open flowers of pussy willow.
At this time of year it’s impossible not to be grateful for the daffodils, which flower in sequence from March until early May if you plant different varieties. Many of the daffodils in our garden were here before us, established long ago and it’s the earliest that are bold yellows. I wouldn’t have chosen to plant bold yellow myself, which was a mistake on my part, thank goodness they were already here because I would have missed their joy in all different shades. That bold yellow blasts away the dark and cold of winter. Like our jumble of second hand vases, now I recommend everyone plants as varied a mix of these wonderful yellow treasures.
Pulmonaria are striding into their prime faster than I can keep track of, some forming impressive hummocks of colour already in pink, blue, purple and white. I’m going to list and discuss my favourite pulmonaria cultivars in next week’s paid newsletter, which I’ve retitled Wild Way Explorer, because Wild Way Magazine didn’t really describe it properly. I’ll also list a bunch of Pulmonaria I don’t like, or don’t think are right for our garden, but might still be of value to other people - after all, we all have different opinions and I love that.
This week saw the spring equinox, the point when our orbit and tilt of the earth means daylight grows longer than night in the northern hemisphere until the summer solstice. On cue the frogs were splashing around and humming in chorus as they lay their frog spawn. Birds are flying around singing their song in the warmer, brighter days. Looking for nesting sites with their partners. Roe deer walk past the window on most mornings, the male bucks with furry antlers getting ready to challenge one another.
Spring appears to be pushing back whatever is causing my lack of sleep and filling me back up with happiness for seeing the life in our garden. Isn’t it great, being a gardener at this time of year?
p.s. for more inspiration for your garden this spring, please check out my new articles:
Sorry about the insomnia, I feel your pain !