The weather over the weekend suggested that I should do more than I did. I think we’ve had about four or five days in a row of clear days with temperatures in the late teens. While the mornings are cool and the air is chilled, the days are warm and sunny, it definitely feels warm for this time of year. I feel like I should be doing more in the garden but she is on a slow move into her winter hibernation. I am more than ok with that as I am cherishing the dahlias that are still flowering. I make plans for how to manage the garden over the coming months and think that perhaps my annual adding of compost and pea straw to the flower beds might be pushed back to spring. I think when the dahlias turn to mush I will then start a tidy up then.

In the meantime I hunt out other things to do. There is a rather large compost pile at the bottom of the garden which I am planning on replacing with a second garden shed so that bee stuff can be moved out of the garage and things that should be in the garage that are in the house can then be moved into the garage and I can turn the junk room to a bit of a library. No small plan. Combined with this compost move, I decided I would have another bash at the compost cake over the winter so I am collecting lawn clippings, compost, worm compost and garden waste to layer up and build my cake that hopefully will be something deliciously good for the garden in the coming months. It is small at the moment but will grow I am sure over the coming weeks. I might start a second once the first is made so that I can build it up over the summer. One building while the other rests. It seems like my kind of baking.

I’ve also spent time editing photos - I’ve currently time traveled back to October 2023 (photos included in this post are from then) where I deleted an impressive 1000 photos, mostly duplicates. It did however prompt me to then order a number of tulip bulbs after revisiting the photos of tulips. I am kinda in love with the candy colours of tulips and it is something that I am keen to repeat. I also brought some more daffodils- you can never have too many plus there is an order of ranunculus plants on the way - the anemones I brought a couple of weeks ago have doubled in size. I may have also added a few more plants to the garden…. everything is settling so well that I planted a few weeks ago it felt a shame not too take advantage of this golden Autumn. Sweet pea seedlings are starting to grow in their loo roll and I have a few overstuffed poppy seedling pots that I need to tend too. It all just keeps rolling along.

It all feels like planning for a season I am not currently sitting in. The work to create a light that will shine in future months. The direction forward to cast ones eye on those rainy days that I am sure are to come. It does, as mentioned, feel like I am not doing much but I forget that I am now working with a reasonable established garden and also that my knowledge over the years has grown too. Things because of this, perhaps, should be easier and I realise that maybe I am relaxing more as a gardener.

With much love

Mel

Hello

The past year or so I’ve been trying to figure out what direction to head with my creative outlets. Taking up photography a few years ago was so I could record and share our day dream of some land, some bees and a garden. Now that this is no longer on our radar I’ve been wondering what I do with my photography. What kind of pictures should I take? What is the purpose of what I do? How do I fit this into my daily life? Lots and lots of questions. It seems that after a fallow year where I just spun my wheels a bit with my photography (although I did discover I like to write odd little nature poems) I feel like I have had a growth spurt. It seems I am a newly flowering perennial rather than an evergreen on the creative front. I’ve worked out that I often need some down time, a winter of sorts to nourish oneself before blooming again.

Since the start of the year I’ve found a few communities that I treasure. Women who like me are juggling many things and craving a creative moment usually with a camera. Through monthly challenges I have discovered I like to make little zines (more to come on that). This past month I joined a group of just exceptionally talented people from all over the world and took part in a 30 day self portrait challenge. Each day we had a different theme and as the days progressed I was waking to read what my new challenge would be before daydreaming about what to create, which I did with various levels of success. Don’t get me wrong there were many frustrations due to limits of time or skill set but I think I have learnt enough about myself to understand that it is part of the process and if I just ride through the tantrums of frustration I often end up creating something I didn’t know I could.

The month starts gently- a hand here, a foot there, a blur, a shadow. As the days progress your confidence grows as you get use to seeing yourself in front of the camera. It becomes easier (not always the easiest thing) to fully stand in front of the camera and have a photo taken. It does bring up a lot of internal questions about self, perception of self and then of course how you feel society sees you. I am at an age where women aren’t often seen so if felt important to me to try, even if it was a baby step to make myself seen.

As the month draws to a close I have 30 photos of myself I didn’t have before. Most of them I like. There are photos I want to do again or explore more,by either taking an idea further or following an inspirational thread that I wish to pull. I share this experience not to show off photos of myself - I have only taken them for me but more to encourage a yes to anyone who has been thinking about doing something like this. Something that takes you out of your comfort zone, to do it. Yes you will have a wealth of emotional feelings about it but I feel it is worth it to learn and love more about who you are.

with much love

Mel

I look at the pear tree and notice less leaves. They seem to be fading away on a daily basis. Whilst there is still much greener in the garden I can see the slow seep in of Autumn. I feel behind on my autumn tidy up but really what can I do. Dahlias are still flowering so are cosmos and the chrysanthemums have not even started. My to do list is languishing just like the season.

I turn to other thoughts. Planting. The garden area which I cleared at Easter is now filled with plants, well enough for the moment. I will review again in late spring no doubt adding annuals such as cosmos and perhaps the odd dahlia in any gaps that are visible, then come next autumn I will add more plants if required. This rinse and repeat is how my garden evolves. I know that the selected plants that I have planted now with their colour palette of blues, pinks and white no doubt in a couple of years will say something else. I like this approach to gardening. It is a mix of moving with a gardeners growing knowledge and the garden space with a dash of weather and climate.

Most of what I plant is a replication of what is already there with a bit of magic added. A saliva of bold purple pink is placed in a gap that I have found in the already planted Nepeta. I have admired it in the botanical gardens (where I brought the plant). I like to add odd pops of colour that tend to flower in the off periods to the rest of what is flowering - just to give myself something interesting to look at plus it also provides continuous food for the bees. I also like to plant now so the plants can establish as the soil cools, it seems a more natural flow to me, rather than roots negotiating cold soil that would be warming in spring. The plants are well established that I have brought which I hope will help see them through the winter.

What is planted is designed to take care of it self. Masses of nepeta makes the bulk - in shades of deep purple, blues and white. I also added in some white biden which I love and hope that this plant will be a success in the garden - other attempts have failed. New to me this year is Bog sage - I love the soft blue and how it mingles into other plants - the bees love it too. A white Hyssopus is added and I might add some blue - these are always solid bee friendly performers. I sprinkle a couple of asters - one pink another white continuing my colour theme. Within the mass I add what I call pretties - the little pops that contrast against the background of bigger things that I have planted. You know the little details that catch your eye when you are walking passed. Here is what I added

• Phlomis samia - new to me

• Thalictrum Rochebruneanum - which is new to me and I brought earlier in the year. It flowered at a time when the rest of the garden was quiet which I appreciated.

• Lysimachi

• Boltonia - pink Nana

• Veronica’s in white and pink.

• Allium Siculum

• Pattys plum poppy

• Blue Geranium

Hopefully it will all melt together and I can’t wait to share photos of how it will look in spring/summer. In the meantime I have to finish laying the brick border around the flower beds before the bees return to their newly refurbished home.

Much love

Mel

The mornings are for tea and bread. They start early for a week off work, a hangover from the changing of the clocks. Time has seen us fall back into Autumn. Leaves swirl on dog walks, collecting and scattering in an array of colours that I find so beautiful as my dog pulls me a long. Mist has returned to the valley or rather I have the time to watch the mist spill over the lip of the valley. We are moving slowly and inch through the days which unfold in a whimsical manner - nothingness is my want most of the time. The diary of things to do is hidden in the depths of my bag. For the most part it feels good and I am sure by the time the week is up it will feel like how life should be.

The week before Easter, on Monday evening we moved the second hive out of the garden to another yard. It was dark and childhood memories of driving up the track to the house, country stars and the smell of mowed grass lingered. I hadn’t thought of the car lights illuminating a track in a long time and that feeling of being small, eyes filled with sleepy travel after visiting grandparents. I think the smell of cigarette smoke from earlier in the day poked something in my mind. The hive was moved as it was being robbed by other bees. Bees are hungry at the moment as food is scarce. It has been another odd summer and it always fills me with a bit of anxiety with regards to if this is the new normal and then I think how much of it is our creating. Moving the hive meant the space in the garden where it lived, along with it’s sister hive that was moved for the same reasons earlier, was empty of bee hives. Suddenly I was presented with a chance to garden in a built up but neglected part of the garden which has very much been left to riot of it’s own accord. I have two weeks before hives move back in to do a tidy up. It was unplanned but I found myself with a garden project for over the Easter break.

I had made a promise to not do much in the garden over the summer. I wanted to align myself with enjoying it. Minor weeding and dead heading were encouraged but that was it. Autumn would see me start to tidy up and make changes before we all rest for winter. The area where I was to tidy, was the first bed that I ‘designed’ when we first moved in. We added a fence of trellis to protect bees and I planted one wisteria, and two jasmine in not a large space. That sentence itself shows the innocence in my understanding of garden design. It didn’t take long for a large robust tangle of foliage to grow. It is a gorgeous tangle of a riot but a riot that never the less needed to be tackled and over two days and a number of hours, I chopped it back and discovered a spot of garden to play with it. We also ended up with the best smelling mulch as the jasmine was shredded.

Next step was to to tidy up and weed around the space. Hidden tiles placed in the grass to make the bee keeping easier were uncovered. Plants I hadn’t been able to trim back due to bee traffic were snipped. In all once it was tidy I felt pretty good. Plants have been ordered to fill newly discovered gaps before hives return (will share what I planted next week). The most important thing is that I felt so good for my work. My body ached, I have blisters on my fingers and I had reconnected to the garden. Autumn for me had begun. As I watch the mist descend into the valley my mind is dancing with ideas as I think of how to evolve the garden in preparation for another season because that is what gardeners do - dream and plan. If you are a gardener you know that feeling well.

with much love

Mel

Hi

It’s Monday again and the circle that is the week starts over again. I am in that sweet spot of time, that gap between things that need doing and things have been done. A moment to cherish. The dogs are scattered around the house in various forms of mid afternoon sleepiness. Big dog is upside down on the couch beside me. Pup on the floor like a rug. Eos is on a bed somewhere. It is quiet aside from the washing machine. A gentle warming sunlight is drifting through the window. I think I should be outside doing something in the garden but instead I just sit and think how we are entering the time of year when sunshine is treasured. The wind and rain over the weekend was reminder that winter is coming.

Over the weekend I was reminded of resilience. Walking up the path on Saturday morning I was scanning the garden for damage from the wind that blew the day before. Prior to the wind we had a few charming days of warmth and I was seduced by the comfort it all. Moments were spent watching bees amongst the flowers and holding tight to the knowledge that simple good things do still exist in a world that feels increasingly more fraught. So yeah I wasn’t expecting a wind. Friday saw the garden swirl like the sea and the dahlias who are normally nodding delicately were bashed about. I’ve spent some time tidying them up with the hopes they return to their former vigor. I am not ready to see them go just yet.

As I stroll I see out the corner of my eye, a sunflower that I had no memory of planting. Then I remember seedlings in the spring and some maybe falling out the window. I guess this one become submerged in the mass of weedy greens below. I was more then surprised and delighted to see that since their topple a lovely bloom was shinning. Across the path from the sunflower I noticed another delight, a small single bloom dahlia, another seedling that had stubbornly grown despite neglect. It was almost a mirror match to it’s sunflower sister across the way. After a few days of grime weather it was a much cherished sight and a reminder of how things can grow no matter what.

I can not know what, aside from the obvious nurturing, makes a seedling become a plant. You can with all the best intentions in the world manage a plant and it for no reason will simply not make it. My garden is very much made up of many such events and equally it is made up of things that have made it, often to my surprise. It makes me think how the resilient plants are and how this has influenced the design of my garden - it is very much a layered creation of survival. I plant with perhaps colour or shape in mind and every season it evolves into something else. A demonstration of beautiful resilience no matter what the weather. I like the idea of beautiful resilience no matter and might apply it more to daily life.

Have a wonderful Easter

with much love

Mel

Hello,

It is Saturday evening and we are outside having a BBQ, the second for the year. The smell and taste of bbq lingers mixed with the odd waft of honey from the hives. For a brief moment it feels like summer. After dinner I stay outside to read but my reading is interrupted as my eye darts. I end up watching bumble bees zoom - they really do look like mini helicopters. One circles past and lands on a dahlia seedling I grew from Susie Ripley’s ‘susie’ collection. It is a single bloom almost butter in colour, a keeper for sure. Another sentence read and I hear the familiar and distracting chirp of pīwakawaka. They are back in the garden. Earlier in the day we saw a cluster of 6 flying round. I couldn’t stop myself from saying hello and welcome to the garden. I realise I am becoming that kinda of person…. to be honest I don’t really mind.

Birds are such a feature of my garden. In my poetry class with Mary Walker (she has a nature poetry session starting soon) I commented on I how I feel like the garden has a heart beat and I love to stand it and feel that heart beat move with me. Sounds odd, but to me the garden is very much a living thing with birds being a vital part of that fluttering motion. They are busy at the moment, eating the elder flower berries. There are apples that been nibbled down to the core and I’ve watched little sparrows and finches delicately munch on seed heads and insects on what I view as the thinnest of branches. They must weigh nothing, like a minute.

The garden is starting to mature. My inexperience as a first time gardener is starting to give way to someone with a bit of knowledge, or at least appreciate of what to do and what not to, although I must admit there is still much to learn. When I look at the garden, the tangled tapestry of it all, I am trying to think how do I explain how to replicate the interweaving of plants and shrubs and I realise you don’t. I know what I see this summer and what will appear next and what it was last year are all different. The climate in each season will mean somethings will shine while others won’t. I learnt this summer that echinacea for me need to be treated like an annual as only one plant flowers this year, all the others have faded.

As I think about how to articulate how I got here. I realise the foundations that I created and continually work on are what have made my garden with a heartbeat.

Here are a few of my foundation points:

• Get to know your soil. For me there two things to think about here:

  • First, weed. Weeding the garden I reckon is the best way to get to know your soil. Lots of people do tests and if that is the way you roll, go for it. I failed 6th form science so I roll in a more tactile way. Weeding the garden is something you either love or hate and I must admit I do find it rather therapeutic. For me it is a great time for the mind to wander and let go of aching thoughts. I did some weeding over the weekend and learnt that the soil is super dry so that reminded me that while I am keen to fill in gaps that I have in the garden maybe I should sit tight before I start planting.

  • Second, understand that your garden can be made up of different types of soil and plant accordingly. I live on a slopping section which means the soil at the top around the house is dry while the soil that is at the bottom is in the shade of the house below us, is not. The soil by one fence is clay the opposite side less so. It is good to know this and to remember not to treat the soil all the same - this is important when it comes to planting. It does mean you can create different moods and stories in the garden which is lots of fun.

• Put some thought into your principles when it comes chemical treatments in the garden. I decided early on that my garden was going to support pollinators and that meant I needed to decide what chemical treatments I would use in the garden. Because I bee keep I see how vulnerable hives can be to changes around them whether that is natural or chemical. So I decided that I won’t use chemicals in the garden. For me this means no weed killers, no sprays for roses. I just let it be. This does mean I have issues. Bind wind drives me crazy. I manual remove it along with other weeds that get bossy when I can. My rule with plants and weeds if you get bossy you are out - I believe in a garden of kindness. I feed the roses but don’t spray so they do end up looking a bit rough by the end of the summer, but hey who doesn’t. I did have a bit period when thinks insect wise where a bit more in the favour of the insects but the last few years have seen things settle to a point that I don’t have issues. The birds and other beneficial insects manage things and I let nature do it’s thing which to me is the best kind of ecosystem you can create in your garden.

• Back to soil. I feed the soil. This I think is the best way to have healthy plants. Healthy plants means health insects that are beneficial to your garden and birds as well. Each Spring and Autumn I put a layer of compost (usually my own if I can) plus a layer of pea straw. The pea straw acts as a weed suppressor. Birds can move the pea straw around but I view it as a shared space and they usually do this when hunting out food, so for the most part I am ok with tidying up after them. I have a worm farm so when I plant and I usually put a bit of that in the with the plant as I plant them out. The soil isn’t fabulous but it is getting better.

Hope these thoughts are helpful.

Much love

Mel

Hello,

I’ve lost a dog in the garden. Given I have three, losing one is not a bad average. One has retreated inside to have the house to herself, taking full advantage of the fact the youngest and possibly the most annoying of the three dogs is tied up to a tree. He whimpers as I am not in touching distance. Sigh. Big dog, oldest dog, the OG dog is hidden somewhere in the garden which is one of his delights. He is deaf which means I call, swear, holler and shout to try to find him - he simply won’t emerge from his hiding spot until he is good and ready. When he does, he appears with a sheepish look on his face, “ you were looking for me” “Yes” I will sigh. Given he is 11 years old I let him away with these antics, knowing that one day I will surely miss this little game of ours.

I am sitting in the garden catching much needed sun after a rather long sad summer which saw more rain and grey sky than one would like. My break from newsletters was longer than planned. At first I was tired, and then it was Christmas and then I was tired again and then I started doing some creative classes and then it suddenly was mid March and Autumn was calling. It was an unintentional summer break and I wish I could be sharing stories of sun and fun and great memories but instead they are soft murmurings of something. What I am not sure.

Around me bees work. Bumbles and honey. Due to the nature of the summer I am so glad I have created the garden that I have. It is offering much needed food for our bees. I watch them move from one flower head to another, urgent in their work. Cosmos, scabiosa, single bloom roses and dahlia all provided nectar as too do the weeds that I have neglected over the summer. I watch bind weed and dandelions bobble with movement from dancing bees. As always the garden is a cheerful welcome mess. Earlier I watched from the window as birds start to nibble on seed heads that are beginning to form and the odd apple which thuds to the ground. I also spied Eos reaching up and stealing a pear from the tree. She is a gifted fruit tree thief. Noticing all these tells me Autumn is on the way, as does the talk of frost. Suddenly it feels like we are moving along to the next season when I don’t feel like this one has really begun. I just hope the dahlias hold for a bit longer. Some are just starting to flower and those that have been part of the garden scene for the past month or so, I cherish. Maybe it will be a slow autumn. Maybe.

I had a class mate ask me for gardening advise. How to plant and create what I have shared in photos in our class. It delights me no end that what I share inspire another - that someone sees what I see. I have a small part of me, a tiny voice at times, that believes in this messy tapestry kind of garden that I have. It is my resistance against the world that seems to become more of a dark place each day. I think how to do I explain this type of gardening. How do I put into words what has taken a number of years to create. A collision of ideas, mistakes and just luck in some cases. It gives me something to think about. Maybe it is just sharing the story of it all, how it has come to be a place of bees zooming, of birds nibbling on seedheads, of nodding dahlias.

While the garden work has been minimal I have been doing a few things as my mind starts to think about Autumn plans. Here’s what I have been up to:

• Deadheading anything that requires it - the cosmos, the dahlias, the roses and scabiosa to name a few. The main reason for this is to encourage more blooms for the bees. They are super hungry at the moment as they build their stores of winter or in the case of bumbles prepare their nest for the winter hibernation.

• This week I couldn’t resist planting a few things :

  Aquilegia - Chocolate Solider - a good spring bee friendly plant and this one I planted for the bees but also because it just looks weird and I am kinda looking forward to taking photos of it in the spring

Big Dog just turned up in case anyone was worried. He looks at me hinting it is time to go inside.

Aquilegia Rose Barlow - another bee friendly - I tried to grow from seed with minimal success so I admitted defeat and purchased some plants. Sometimes that is easier

Verbascum Hybrid - Southern Charm - I just love this and I seem to have plants that I always just add based the idea that you can never have too many. Planting in multiples is always a great thing to do for bees as they tend to forage one plant at a time - if there are multiples it saves flying around.

• Saponaria Officinalis - Flore Pleno - new to me plant that I thought I would give it a whirl simply cause she looks pretty.

Anyway it’s nice to be back sharing my garden with you.

Much love,

Mel

My hand reaches for the first book on the pile. Roses and sweet peas are scooped up and placed in a vase. The scent is wonderful and talks of the summer that I feel is inches away. A notebook has been ordered as my thoughts swirl and spin and I realise it is time. Time to break for the summer and enjoy words and flowers and sit and just be. Fill the tank for the year ahead.

Thank you all for reading my words, for commenting, for saying kind words.

I will see you in the new year.

with much love..

Mel

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I am sitting in the garden. Alone, which feels like an rather unexpected treat. Everyone else has gone inside and I am left with my notebook, pen and thoughts. It feels like the first time this season where I have just sat and enjoyed what is around me. I think how I need some time to connect to the garden space which dosen’t involve work and so I do. It’s evening. I watch as bumbles still hurry around, marveling at their work ethic, and the adorable cuteness of the new generation of bumbles no bigger than my little finger nail. I inhale scents. Honey from the hives (the honey bees have knocked off for the day), the mix of roses, jasmine and sweet peas along with that summer smell of heat and grass and moisture from watered plants. The roses are in their first flush, a delightful mix of candy colours against a backdrop of new green. Birds begin their evening chorus. I inhale it all in, a relaxed sigh follows.

It all seems to feel like an extension of a recent read “Do Reset” by Jillian Lavender, a mediation coach amongst other things. When I head indoors and finish the last few pages of her book it resonate and weirdly answer the question of what I have been feeling of late. As the year draws to a close it is most definitely the end of year tired I feel for sure but there is something else. A nervous sadness of sorts that seems to linger no matter what I do. I could feel it shift after sitting in the garden and Jillian’s words confirmed what I was feeling. I need to reset. She writes:

She goes on to explain the three phases of a mini reset:

1. Stop and let go - pull back from whatever it is that’s got you to the point of discomfort

2. Settle down - move away from over-excitation and towards a calmer place

3. Create space - open up room for what’s coming next.

I realise that I am exiting phase 1 and drifting unaware into phase 2. I had made a few tweaks to my ‘work work” and now that things are improving for the better I just need to settle for a bit before I moved on to what I can do with my energy now that I am experiencing less discomfort. I read how we find it hard to just settle into phase 2 and that we like to race to the new thing and I could see that this is why I was feeling a bit off. Perhaps it wasn’t just end of year tired I was feeling, maybe I am just rushing to move from one thing to another.

I reflected back to my time in the garden. How I sat and wrote (Essay Camp - a unexpected joy). I looked. I smelt. I listened. I invoked my senses, all things that you can do to reset your body and I thought how the garden is such a perfect place to do this. I think of the summer months ahead, of my growing summer reading pile and my chore list in the garden that is slowly shrinking. I then think of booking some time in the garden as all this unfolds to reset and to create some space for what is coming next.

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It is not yet 5am and I am awake. Sleep seems to have packed a bag and abandoned me despite me crawling into bed that night so exhausted that it felt like a welcome friend, a soothing comfort as my eyes started to close. Suddenly in the early hours of the morning every unprocessed thought was demanding my attention and no matter how much self soothing I did, I couldn’t find peace. I pretend for so long and then admit defeat. I was at that point where you are close enough to when you would normally wake that trying to get back to sleep seems pointless. I get up and try and think of how to use my time, so here I am tap tapping away, reflecting on the weekend.

The weekend seemed to be one of words that caught my ear and I hope hold memories for later days. Saturday I meet a friend in the botanical gardens with our cameras, something which I have not done in a long time. It felt good to play, to talk and to feel the warmth of late spring sun on my skin. ‘How did we not see this last year” my friend calls out and I wonder how this is so. Is it timing or plants growing at different rates due to seasonal variations or is it visiting on a different day. Perhaps it is us that is different a year on, we are no doubt molded and shaped slightly different to when we stood here last year, even if we aren’t aware of it. For what ever reason we saw either with the same eyes different things or different eyes the same things.

“Is that rose named peace?”, she asked “yes” I replied knowing that when I picked and put it in a vase now sitting on the dinning table that she most would likely make such an inquiry. She immediately inhaled it’s wonderful fragrance as I did when I picked it. I thought how magical flowers can be that they evoke a quiet simple joy. That a name and a scent could take us both to different places, different memories in this simple act of acknowledging a flower. Her thoughts of what that rose meant to her are different to mine yet somehow we are connected by her inquiry of the name.

“Oh hello you”, I said to myself as I gardened. Woken early by a dog whose internal alarm clock is 6am no matter what the day of the week it is, I found myself in the garden by 8 tackling the number of plants purchased and seedlings who had survived my rather hardcore hardening process. I decided that everything was getting planted today and I was determined to do so. I do think that one of my favourite things about gardening is that even if you are weeding or planting, you see different things that you may miss as you walk past during your day. I love spying the newly flowered, the little lady bug that saw me rush to get my camera or seeing small stories as plants grow and tangle together. My garden is a tapestry and I am so happy that it is filling in.

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It’s 4pm, Monday afternoon. “Work work” is a distant memory and I am sitting on the couch with limbs in the sun. Dogs are scattered around the house, cooling off after some time outside in the garden. Whilst outside I spent time sorting my seedlings, taking stock of what is working and what is not. The neglected tomato seedlings were put into bigger pots and I set up something I love to have on hand each summer, a pot of basil seedlings. There is nothing better than adding a handful of basil to a salad or to a fresh cherry tomato. I worked out who was still going on the cosmos and scabiosa front. I believe the lack of sun in the last two weeks and me being a bit heavy handed with the watering meant I am going to start again. I love that about gardening, you usually always get a do over. I also have sitting by me a label of the rose that I hope I can find. I planted about 5 new roses in the garden this year and for some reason Pup pup took a dislike to one, Munstead Wood and dug at it until the rose said enough and promptly stopped growing. Elsewhere in the garden, paths are becoming hidden as raspberries are pollinated. It is all buzz and grow.

Before I headed indoors after sorting out my seedlings, I clipped a few twigs of what I image are the last of the white lilac and the first of the scented roses that are starting to flower. I then spent 10 minutes trying to find Senior Airedale. To find a senior and rather deaf Airedale one must repeatedly whistling and calling to him. I thought I had found his trail of mischief but he ended up appearing in a completely different part of the garden with a stupid grin on his face, a smattering of foliage in his fur. He does delighted in his game of hide and seek. He turns 11 this month and as much as I can do with out the hunting round the garden just seeing the delight on his face I know is a memory in the making. For the most part (digging up roses aside) I do love being in the garden with the dogs.

The garden is a joy to be in at the moment, especially after the weeks of unattractive weather that we have had. It is filling in and I have to say as it moves on from the fresh green of early spring I find in myself just generally feeling more settled. It’s like we are both sighing with relief at the place we find ourselves. I finished up my big spring weed and now am delightfully filling in gaps with new plants. I have a couple of online orders coming this week and I definitely want to get in as much as I can into the garden before the end of the month. The sweet peas that I started off as seedlings in Autumn are starting to flower and are much more successful compared to the ones that I started in spring. Dahlias are starting to sprout and I am relieved to see them emerging from the soil as we had a few more frosts this year compared to last so I was a bit worried that I would lose some. I have a few new tubers to add to the collection, including one called ‘Sweet Sanne’ a name shared by a much loved cousin. You can never have too many dahlias right?

The spring bulbs are down to one last tulip which when gone I will let the bulbs die off a bit before replacing with the many zinnias I have sprouting inside. I am looking forward to having a mass of them flowering away. It feels early but the garden is really starting to move with pollinators. First generation bumbles have been seen and the honey bees have been feasting on the borage (white and blue) that is a welcome self seeder in the garden along with the honey wort. I do love seeing a sea of blue in the garden softly moving due to the presence of bees. Poppies are proving popular and my pots are dense with plants. I love seeing what colour poppy is emerging each day. Whilst I am wistful in my description of the garden, it is a delicate balance of management and I still have work to do. Bind weed is appearing and I have to sort out the patio area and the list goes on but for the moment as I sit with limbs in the sun I am just drinking in the delight of it all, and appreciating the work that I have done so far this season. I hope wherever you are you take a moment to do the same.

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We all seem bored. It is raining like it would rain on a winters day. Ice speaks in the air and I am sure it is snowing somewhere (it was). There is no sun. Dogs are scattered about the place. The older two, well versed in such days, are sleeping. They seem to have sensed that the early morning walk before the weather set in, was all the activity the day was going to allow. Now they seek warmth and comfort and yes I am one of those people who nestles their dogs in old blankets. Atlee’s eyes, followed by a deep sinking moan, tell me that his old bones appreciate my fancies. Pup doesn’t follow suit and I am sure if he could talk he would utter “I’m bored”, in his best whining voice. Instead he amuses himself, darting from room to room, finding bits of paper that I am sure I have picked up to chew. We all soon tire of him and each other and seek comfort in our own worlds, sleeping, watching telly, reading words. It feels like a Sunday where such weather is allowed, however it is a Monday and a day off work. I feel like we deserve a refund on this day.

As the day creeps along, I revisit an old notebook refreshing my mind with collected quotes from past reads along with jottings of notes. They almost take the shape of a dream. I skim through and words that capture my eye are transcribed to other note books. These are ideas to shape and refine. Perhaps there is a dream there after all. It is enough for the moment. These transcribed words are a suggested play for future days. I close my notebook and whilst I don’t have a tangible creation I can feel the murmurs of something, what I am not sure but I feel a small twinge of excitement at the possibility of it. Maybe that is what boredom is for, the gentle space of nothingness which encourages the mind to look in corners busy days prevents.

I make a tea, it is a day for tea and whilst I hunt out the milk, I glance over the fridge door. It is mess of magnets collected from travels (refined, the bulk are in a box somewhere. Magnet collecting was an obsession for a while), photos of family and the odd postcard. Cherished emphemera, memory moments that I glance at daily. It holds those not immediately near close. I am reminded of conversations with my sister in law and how the fridge is not just the heart of the house for the food it stores but also like ours, the collective memory. My eye returns to the postcard and I think how I have others as bookmarks, holding pages in books. Stories within stories. It reminds me to check out a local printer. I want to make my own to share, to send, to be stuck on someone’s fridge elsewhere or to be hidden in a book. I like the idea of making small art pieces to hold in your hands.

While I am still working on the postcards, I do have a few I printed, just to see what they are like. They are a starting point to something, much like the words revisited from my notebook, an idea not yet fully formed but one I will share when it is ready. In the meantime I have a pile of daffodil cards, ready to send. I thought perhaps to send them out into the world would be nice. A spark of joy much like the image of spring. A little bit of joy in the mail that these days we don’t get a lot of. I post a message on socials “does anyone want some mail?” people respond and cards are sent to various corners of the world. I reconnect with people who in the past we would have chattered and now we just heart a photo or two. I have a few left and if you wish to have a little joy sent your way in the form of a postcard of daffodils then let me, respond to this message “yes please” and I will see what I can do.

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As I look out the window part of me wonders and worries a little. I am thinking about how the garden might look like in 24 hours. Strong winds are predicted and while we are not sitting in the brunt of it (thoughts to peeps in those areas) one still feels nervous. Rain is falling and a wind is stirring. There is the talk of 24 degrees and 50 km winds. It feels like a confusing mess, an extreme version of 4 seasons in one day. It adds a unique undercurrent of nervousness to the day.

The garden as I look out my rain splattered window is cracking along regardless. The lush green of spring is on full display and I admire pops of colour that are emerging as flowers bloom. Each season there is always something different that captures my heart and this year it seems to be the colour orange. I know weird right? I think it is about contrast. The contrast of the green background of the garden against the lushness of orange. It sings in a way that I think would only work in spring. I find it especially heartening on a grey day like today and as I look out the window my eye is automatically drawn to the vibrant ranunculus that are currently flowering. For some reason I have been incredibly precious about my ranunculus Potting them up in pots and then saving the corns (when I remember) to re plant in the year to come. I realised this year I need to let go of this, as I noticed that my potted ranunculus are nowhere near as strong as those that remained in the garden. So one of jobs this weekend, if weather permits, is to plant them all out into various garden beds, I just need to decide which ones.

From the window I can also see some seedlings, nervously shivering, no doubt just as confused as I am about the weather as it swings from full sun to rain in the space of 24 hours. I suspect I am being optimistic about the survival of some. I started off well with my seedlings to the point that I left confident. Measured amounts were potted up and watched and then I got carried away with too many trays and seeds and the seedlings I started off last are suffering. The burst of sunflowers that emerged a week or two are go are shadows of their former selves and the abundance of cosmos seedlings too have faded away. I was relieved when I spotted someone else on socials bemoaning the decline of their beloved cosmos. I’ve decided it is time for a new approach and so more seeds will be ordered and I think I will direct so in the garden. I am curious to see how successful this will be and I’ve made notes to self for next year to pace myself when it comes to growing my seedlings.

Added to the scene at bottom of the garden I can see waving away in the wind the mop top form of white lilac. I’ve been delighting in the return of scent to the garden just as much as I have been the colour green and of course the sound of an errant bumble bee. Lilac flowers for such a short season and I gleefully snips branches of it to bring inside. I added a delicate pink variety to the garden last year and look forward to seeing her bloom once the white has finished. The jasmine too is rioting along, fighting against enforced containment as I try to keep it in one space, its creepers strongly disagree with my plans. On the few nights that hint of summer and windows are open I love the casual drift of it’s scent in the through the window. I was also very pleased to see my first rose flowering Freesia, she looks and smells fabulous. I am especially pleased to see her leaves are lush and health looking telling me that my worm farm compost mix has worked a charm. That is all the encouragement I need to keep up the adding of compost and pea straw in the no dig method to the garden.

The sky seems to be a determined grey and the rain is heavy drops that provide no comfort and only suggest being chilled to the bone. There is not hint of the predict warmth, maybe it is to come with the wind. Either way I shall watch the storm unfold from the comfort of my home and hope that it passes quickly and that people and creatures are kept safe.

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It’s mid week, the weather and light are enough that I think I might be able to head out later after dinner and take some photos in the garden. This is one of my favourite things to do. I find it is a perfect way to end the day, taking a minute to enjoy some quiet reflection, capturing beauty before the night folds in. “I’ve checked the bees and we have a nuc hive to move” I am informed and I can see the mirage of my moment in the garden fade as I learn of nuc that needs to head up the road and my help is required. The afternoon moves on, dinner is had, dogs are walked and we are suited up. Before I know it, the nuc is in the boot of the car and we are traveling along to the location that will be the new home of our little hive. Upon arrival there is the usual discussion of fences and lifting and differences in arm lengths and what one can and can not do (6ft 4 vrs 5ft 4) Before I am ready to do what I need to do I see the nuc is over the fence and partly nestled in it’s new location when I hear “there’s a swarm”. Wait, what? Actually there are two swarms. By now I am full cartoon double take, untangling myself from fence and tree and trying to figure out what is going on.

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This is when I see swarm number one. A small huddle of bees, slightly bruised and definitely not moving. It lies on the side of the gravel track merging into the grass edge. I am not sure what happened I suspect the cold may have got to them but I must admit it is kinda a heart breaking thing to see. I guess a death of anything in any form is. I frown beneath my veil and then my eye catches movement and I can see huddled together on a sprouting sapling of some sort a small cluster of bees, just enough to warrant being called a swarm. It is moving and looks slightly chilled. We kinda look at each other wondering what to do next as we don’t have anything to scoop the swarm up. I remember the newly purchased tool box we brought to put any food purchased that a waiting airedale might find desirable whilst in the car alone so I retrieve it from the car and we brake off the branch where the swarm is hanging and rest it in the box, hoping the queen is in. Placing the open box on an angle we watch as the bees already scooped up stay and others start marching in the general direction of where the queen must be. This all seems to be going to plan. It is only just as we think we are done that we notice the queen on a bee suit. She is promptly placed in the box, the swarm is taken home to be put into proper bee kit and now as I write whilst it is raining, it is settled in the garden until we know the hive is a bit stronger.

The next day I start work early so I can finish early so I can garden as it is going to be a warm afternoon. I have plans to tidy up a flower bed, the herb bed actually, which is a looking ratty and I most likely won’t touch until this time next year when it has been through a full cycle of the seasons and is looking ratty again. Work is done and I am back inside, making a tea when I notice out the corner of my eye what seems to be a lot of bee activity. A stream of many not into or out of a hive but instead mid way up the very tall rata tree which is at the bottom of the section. I sigh and inwardly pray my eyes are playing tricks on me but no, upon closer inspection, well from a distance given where they are located, I confirm that indeed there is a swarm. Text messages fly and then I wait until the taller of us is home.

Upon his arrival a plan is formed involving a ladder, a box and climbing into the part of the garden which is well down on the list of places that need tidying up, largely because it is a such a big task to undertake. We attempt to catch the swarm, well, what will end up being three attempts - up the ladder, shake the bees into the box, pass box down, clamber through overgrown garden, dump bees (gently) into bee box. We finally got the queen in the cardboard box and then nestled her into her new home upon which point the bees stopped streaming out and back to the spot on the rata tree where they were. While we waited for bees to settle into their new home I grabbed the camera to take some photos, ironically at the time I was planning to the night before, in the quiet of the unfolding evening. The dinner wasn’t made, the dogs weren’t walked and it wasn’t as planned but it was still a moment to capture beauty. I guess you have got to take these moments when you can.

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It’s early Saturday morning and I am checking my phone. The message reads “….I am determined to go…”. I check the weather forecast and gloomy rain clouds are still present. I had secretly hoped it would have shifted to a glowing sun by now but no, it’s still gonna rain. We agree to meet regardless and I surrender to the idea that it will be what it will be. The gardens, Maple glen gardens, just outside of Wyndham, are about an hours drive from where we are staying in the Catlins. We have taken a few days off work and have brought big dog, the OG Atlas with us whilst the other two pups burn off some steam at the kennels. As we drive to the gardens the clouds lifts and thickens with no set pattern. It rains then falls into a mist which then disappears only to return to rain & mist minutes later. We arrive and met and the grey clouds hold. I divert everyone from the nursery, “Let’s visit the garden first just in case it rains”. So we head off to wander the 100 acres garden (yes you read me right) and the rain did as I asked and held off and it was magical.

I mentioned in my Instgram post when I did a quick “I really must share some of these photos with someone” that this garden was the place of spring and it was. Not spring referencing a splash of blossom or the odd bulb here or there but mass plantings that involved hillsides of daffodils and small forests of bluebells seeking shelter under lofty trees. There was an avenue of blossoms which was simply magical to stand under and listen to the contended drone of bumblebees while tuis sang. A number of ponds created a journey round the garden. Walking around it felt like minutes had passed when really you had lost an hour or two. I was amazed at how the vistas worked. The garden design meant that one step one way created a vista that changed into something else after a few paces on. We wandered losing each other and then finding each other, only to head off into different directions, circling back to each other minutes later. Our tour guide was a piwakawaka that danced around us we moved through the garden. The magnolias were just starting to flower along with some beautiful rhodies that were the perfect shades. I could see that in later season that Hydrangeas would be the stars of the garden.

I marveled at how a simple palette of a few plants as a background would shift in nature by adding in a different plant. For example masses of daffodils and white hellebores that had the accent of bluebells which as you walked around the garden moved to deep purple trilliums. I was super inspired by woodland type plants and I have a spot in the bottom of the garden where I purchased a number of treasures (anemones, bleeding hearts) from their nursery (they are online). I found the magical layering of shrubs inspiring and loved how pruning gives shape and direct for the eye to follow. It was all so peaceful and such a lovely space to be in. Enough from me- I shall let the photos do the talking.

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I gently pull the frame from the box and hold it up only to immediately drop it. As it slips from my hands I watch as bees sprinkle down my leg and I do a silent prayer that I am bee tight in my suit, that my gumboots are tucked into my bee suit and not the other way around. I look down and bees have scattered across my boot and the grass surrounding my feet. Already they are orientating and marching back to their home and their queen. A quietly strong instinct that I don’t understand. I can only watch and admire their determination and focus. It’s my first day in the hives for the season and I am shaking off the winter clumsiness. I am stiff and slow. My gloves feel too big and I am very much relying on muscle memory to ensure I am doing what I need to do. I was taught habits by rote when I learnt beekeeping. Something I am very grateful for because I don’t have to think as I bee keep. I can do my favourite thing which is to observe.

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The hive we check is full. So very full of bees and pollen and nectar and honey. We joke that we could extract a box of spring honey. Something we have never done before. It’s that kind of season. As I find my bearings I realise the frames I am checking are new which means they are slippery. They are yet to build up the patina of a hive. The frames are free of the wax comb that forms shapes that don’t conform to a human made hive design and propolis, a glue like sticky substance which a bee uses to fill gaps in the hive. When you open a hive there is a very satisfying crack as you slide the hive tool between boxes you are separating. This is the sound of propolis. It’s sound gives an indication as to the nature of the hive. A hollow crack echoes around an empty box while a more heavy thud hints at the fullness. The weight as you lift the box off confirms if your understanding of the crack was right. In this case I watch as Damian lifts the boxes and I can tell they are heavy before I even see the cracked comb that spills honey into the sunlight.

While we are shocked at the size of the hive and it’s current momentum we are also kinda relieved. Nothing has been lost and it feels like it might be a good season. We talk about how best to manage this. How to ensure that this good start works well for our bees. The fullness of the hives means that swarm season is here early. We then check each frame for any queen cells that indicate our current queen is thinking of absconding. We find a number indicating we need to do something to slow this hive down. For us it seems obvious - a split in the form a nucleus hive or nuc. Once we have done our initially check of all the frames I am dispatched to locate the nuc box (it is a very cute looking baby hive) that has been moved various times around garden. It’s wood is silver from age and I can see that the front porch or entrance is more than a little worn. It will however, do what we need to do. A frame with a cell or two is found and placed into the nuc box. Then any remaining queen cells in the existing hive are removed. We find frames filled with pollen and nectar plus honey and move then across as well as frames with a lot of brood, the next generations of bees. More bees are shaken into the box and a feeder for syrup is added, when we have enough bees we then close the hive up, stuff grass in the entrance door. It is ready to move to it’s new home where.

The hive is then moved to a yard a few kilometers away. If we leave it in our garden then the bees will just move back to where they came from. Distance will give them a chance to settle in and hopefully a new queen will emerge and the hive will grow. Once big enough we will move into bee kit that is the same configuration as the hive we just checked. Simply put this is how we create a new hive. It’s a replication of the swarm action that the bees will themselves do if not checked. By managing this swarm desire we ensure the survival of the hive as due to the varroa mite, a hive that swarms to the wilds is very low. Once our nuc is settled we check the other hives in the garden. Boxes are added to give more space to those who need it. I get my first sting of the season. Like always it occurred due to clumsiness, either by the bee or more likely myself. I bent my arm not realising the bee was resting on my suit which resulted in a sharp prick advising me of carelessness. We finish up and I can feel my lower back ache from bending over. It’s a familiar feeling and weirdly welcome one. I will be back again next week and the many weeks after until the honey flow starts checking for more queen cups.

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I’m flicking through the pages of my note book with hands that have scratches from four days of gardening. I only discovered half of them when I had my second bath in two days. The first was mid afternoon on Saturday when all my aching body was doing was protesting. It soon calmed down after a soak in a gardeners best friend some Epsom salts. Four days of gardening were as blissful as they sound. I clocked in at 8am and worked non stop until noon delighting in having a day stretch out unconfined by what I must do. I mean I did have a chore list of things to do in the garden but I wasn’t restricted by time. I could start and finish my gardening work as and when I wanted to. It felt like the ultimate in luxury - to garden and forget about time.

So what did I do. The plants that I had collected were finally planted. The soil feels warm to touch so that was enough for me. Poppies that I grew from seed in the Autumn along with my many drumstick alluimns have now found there homes in various flower beds. I purchased a couple of terracotta pots that I nestled into beds where the soil is dry and unforgiving and filled them will more poppies - poppies that I am delighted to see have started to flower. Five bales of pea straw were spread across the garden (and I need more). Ranunculus were planted in the much moved trough planter. Weed mat that I failed to put down on a newly created path last year was finally placed and it also marked out a new seating space. I did this to give us a clear visual of the space so we can see how much room we have to create it. Little white anemones were nestled into beds smothered in self seeded Italian parsley that were used in garlic bread we ate for dinner later that night. The work was enriching and hot and it seemed to feel like a final step out of winter into spring.

The notebook I am flicking through contains words and images I have collected over the year - it’s a memento of my journey through books I read. I am not sure if I will ever do anything with this collection but I find some reassurance in having all these words and images recorded and remembered. I love that the spine is straining as the pages are filled. I am flustering through pages and trying to understand my hand writing when I find the words I am looking for, from Celia Paul’s memoir ‘Self Portrait”:

“I only ever work from people and places that I know well. This inside knowledge gives me freedom to take liberties with the forms and structures of the face and figures, the colours, the waves, the houses.”

I hunted it out because after my gardening hours, I found it so easy to pick up the camera and take photos. Celia’s words of creating from things that she knows well resonates. This is how I feel - I can only create art from the garden after spending time it. I need to know it well in all it’s seasons. As I worked I noticed the newly emerging anemone, shrieked a greeting of delight to the freshly flowered poppy, admired the pear blossom that is starting to show. It was like reconnecting to some part of me that had been hibernating over the winter. I didn’t need to pep talk myself to take some photos as I had been of late I just did because I wanted too. I played.

As the days of spring unfold and we spring forward with the clocks this weekend I think I shall look back on this weekend of four days with an immense fondness. Not just because the weather was largely good and I ticked off pretty much all that I was on my to do list but because I got to spend time in one of my favourite places that I know well and cherish the freedom it gave me to create with joy.

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We seem to be somersaulting from a sunny to a stormy in one day and back again. I am writing on a sunny day but there is a wind and I can see the silhouette of bees bouncing around the garden. Watching all this reminds me of the things I forget about spring so I’ve complied a list:

1. The scent of daffodils. I have a small collection in a vase which were growing in the lawn and for whatever reason - dog or wind, ended up facing a weird angles due to damaged stems. My rule is such damage means they are picked and admired inside. Having them inside is naturally delightful as is the very soft and delicate scent that accompanies them.

2. I forget how fast cosmos seedlings sprout. I started my collection a week ago and most have emerged from the soil like some sort a little alien head. I find it fascinating to see how the force of seed growth moves soil. It puckers and spills around the husk of the seed. It is definitely a favourite thing to watch.

3. Dog madness - Pup pup is starting to settling down but man the dogs have been going nuts. Lots of energy and madness which always seems to occur on the day when the weather is rough and we are stuck inside. I forget that dogs get spring fever and have a little spurt of crazy before the weather settles and it becomes too hot of such nonsense.

4. I always forget the weather. I always forget how long it takes to transitions from winter to spring and how long it takes before it settles. I am always to keen for summer clothes and time outside while the weather has other plans.

5. Side note to point 4 - I forget how despite my enthusiasm I don’t get as many days in the garden as I think I will because of the weather. Spring is about being patience.

6. A side not to point 5 - I forget how much work the garden is in spring. I feel like I haven’t been thinking that much about taking photos or creative projects and then I realise most of my thoughts have been towards plantings and things I want to get done in the garden.

7. The light in the garden - again I am such an optimist about how early spring arrives and I forget that it does take a while before it is light enough to be out in the garden after dinner and take photos. It is one of my favourite times to be in the garden as the day ends. I’m almost there.

8. I forget how long it takes you to get over a cold or flu. I forget that whilst the chesty cough and the sneezes might have gone it still often takes another week before you get your mojo back.

9. I forget how the growth in the garden is selective and seems to be on it’s own clock. Some things are off and going while others are waiting for who knows what. Patches of earth are slowly disappearing but it will be a bit before I see the garden with a full backdrop of green

10. I always do this - forget to create enough space for my seedlings. It is starting to be a dance for space and I am thinking about how I can create a nursery outside somewhere which is frost (I am sure we will get another one) and dog proof.

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I check the calendar to see if the date matches the time of year for wind to hit the garden and it does. The spring equinox is the 23rd of this month and the days leading up to it are always in my mind associated with wind The house kindly provides solid shelter against the bluster outside. From where I stand I watch the garden swirl and spin much like the sea. Plants roll like waves. It evens sounds like waves crashing on a beach. I give a cursory glance to spy any damage and things, while looking slightly flustered, are as they should be. I even hear a bird optimistically chirping but I suspect most of the birds that call my garden home are like me, nestled somewhere, taking shelter from the wind.

I watch the plum blossom sway. It only started flowering a week ago and already there is more green leaves than blossom blooms. I believe it might be it’s off year for fruiting or else the pigeons have nibbled more than I thought or maybe there is something else happening that is too subtle for human awareness. There are still popcorn like masses of flowers on the tops of the tree, to high up for me to photography. Realising this makes me feel a bit mournful - it will be another year before they will be back and I can photograph them. Already the season feels like it is moving to fast and I am reminded that I need to pay attention if I want to take photos of the stories of the garden but then I think that maybe this the story of the garden this. A quick blast of things coming and going.

Speaking of stories of the garden, I am still pottering away with the clean up of my photo archive and it has made me realise that I have many little stories from over the years of my garden. I am trying to figure out how I can share them beyond here and Instragram. I want to find a way to invite people to be able to hold them in their hands. It feels timely that the virtual because the tangible and I feel like I want to create a new way to connect. I want to figure out a way to send some kindness out in the form an image. It is still a work in progress, taking shape and form, but I am kinda excited by it. Sometimes you just need to share a crumb of an idea to make you commit to it.

As I watch the swirl outside in the garden, I am glad despite my rather aching body that I have, that I spent a good couple of hours in the garden yesterday. The green waste bin was filled, the worm farm emptied, more seed trays where started (I have really run out of room). The day itself was warm and inviting - perhaps unpredictably so and it was hinting at the cold snap that was settled in as I went to sleep to the sound of a soil rain on the roof. It was a comforting sound to hear because I think we need some rain. I had to water my pots in plants earlier in the week. I wonder how long the wind will last and then I reach for a book and think that perhaps a day inside won’t be a bad thing. Then I count the days until the equinox. 11 days to go.

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The first drop of rain hits my camera lens as I attempt to take a shot. It has been a quick flit around the garden with the camera as they tend to be at the moment. I need to settle in to taking photos, give it some time but I don’t seem to have the patience. I know as the garden starts to fill with spring then summer growth that the 5 minutes dash will become longer as I have more and more to photography. I am excited about the coming season, knowing it will be different from last year. New plants have been added to the garden and what was already established has a years growth. I love that things are never the same as the year before. I think how annuals always add something different and I make a note to self to order some cosmos seeds. For me they always add some wistful magic to the garden. After a few more photos I head inside. It is the season of dancing skies, one minute vivid blue the next moody grey. It seems to be shifting more to the later and the predicted cold snap seems to be moving through. On this first week of spring I dare to wonder, will this cold snap be the last for the year?

As I trudge up the steps to the front door I notice the scattering of plants collecting by the bottom of the steps. Cell packs of delphiniums picked up in the weekend. A delicious order of hollyhocks, a deep orange ranuncs that I am hoping will be flowering in time for my macro photography course that will start online later this month (details here) and some silene uniflora all from Emerden. A stoic looking white buddleia also waits for it’s new home. Elsewhere in the garden there are more pots - the many alluim bulbs I have sprouted over the winter and the poppies I started in autumn are itching for more space than their pots provide. I am holding my nerve to plant them out and the increasing spits of rain remind me that I am wise to do so. They will keep as they are for the moment. I feel a twitch of maturity, as I am sure in seasons past I would have planted them all on the first weekend of warmth.

I can feel the garden starting to stretch and yawn and wake from its winter slumber. A glance out the window reveals an increasing presence of fresh green which is a combination of the new growth of the many perennials that make up my garden but also the work I have been doing of tidying up. Parts of the garden almost look civilised and we will hopefully tick off the first of my landscaping jobs in the garden. Dog proofing fence number 2 which will stop the dogs from chatting with the neighbors and provide me with a space to grow a climber of sorts. I am not sure what it will be but feel certain a rose would work well. I have desires to finish off projects started last summer that were never finished and plan a long weekend in a few weeks time where I can devote time to getting the spring tidy up completed. I want a nook for lazing in on summer days and evenings with a pile of pillows and a pile of dogs. We talk of designs and chuckle at the idea that no doubt this newly created space will be most used by senior Airedale. He is ageing in a very Airedale and graceful sleepy way often frequenting sunny corners especially ones with a cushion or two.

Once inside I flick through the photos I took. The lawn of daffodils are starting to flourish and I love the mass vibrancy of them. I note how a small path in the grass has been created. A trail embedded by dog paws as they race around the garden. I kinda like how it has naturally formed. I also check my trays of seedlings. I started a round of sweet peas and pricked out the first of the dahlia seeds that have sprouted. Dahlia seeds are such a fun thing to grow as you never know what you will get. It is a real lucky dip. I’m keen to try my luck with a Susie’s Mix which I am sure will be gorgeous. Small poppy seedlings are emerging as too are foxgloves and hollyhocks and I wonder about space and where to put them all as they grown, then forget it about and simply marvel in the wonder that is a seed that emerges. As I study my seedlings I realise the day has shifted gears again and it is now full sun, the only hint of the shower is the odd tear stain of rain on the window. The dance of spring skies continues.

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