.
Yesterday was a little chillier than previous days but, at least in my part of the world, bright and sunny nonetheless.
From the sounds around me yesterday morning, spring has most obviously sprung. Those of various lawnmowers giving the grass its first trim predominated initially. The strimmers and hedge-clippers followed. Then the spades straightening up flower beds and lawns and, finally, the garden brooms and the more subtle sounds of garden waste sacks being shuffled.
Sight and scent also announce that spring has arrived after what has seemed an eternity of winter. The scent of freshly-cut grass permeates my garden and overlays that of the hyacinths which are now already drooping along with the daffodils. Bluebells are blooming in one bed while, in another, the last of the snowdrops are fading. Mock raspberry, grape-hyacinth, wild violet, some pansies and the forsythia all bring colour to the garden. The bushes and trees are all busting into life.
At some point I will pay attention to the weeds that seem to have taken the opportunity to spread while the cold of winter distracted me from the garden. I’ve done enough for now; it looks much tidier and the weeds can wait another day or two.
A few hours in the garden Sunday morning bought a feeling of accomplishment, peace even. And not once did I think of that wretched General Election!
.
Yesterday was a little chillier than previous days but, at least in my part of the world, bright and sunny nonetheless.
From the sounds around me yesterday morning, spring has most obviously sprung. Those of various lawnmowers giving the grass its first trim predominated initially. The strimmers and hedge-clippers followed. Then the spades straightening up flower beds and lawns and, finally, the garden brooms and the more subtle sounds of garden waste sacks being shuffled.
Sight and scent also announce that spring has arrived after what has seemed an eternity of winter. The scent of freshly-cut grass permeates my garden and overlays that of the hyacinths which are now already drooping along with the daffodils. Bluebells are blooming in one bed while, in another, the last of the snowdrops are fading. Mock raspberry, grape-hyacinth, wild violet, some pansies and the forsythia all bring colour to the garden. The bushes and trees are all busting into life.
At some point I will pay attention to the weeds that seem to have taken the opportunity to spread while the cold of winter distracted me from the garden. I’ve done enough for now; it looks much tidier and the weeds can wait another day or two.
A few hours in the garden Sunday morning bought a feeling of accomplishment, peace even. And not once did I think of that wretched General Election!
.
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