MuswellHillbilly

March, that is and this year it’s certainly true. A few weeks ago we were dazzled by snow and now are pale, sun-starved faces are enjoying some very welcome spring rays.

I have to confess I am a fair-weather gardener. This weekend I was lured outdoors by proper blue skies and sun beams to get my hands dirty. I pruned the roses bushes ruthlessly, defying my instincts by hacking off new growth. The mock orange tree by the shed got the same tough love treatment. Then I got busy with some seed trays and sowed bunching onion seeds, nolana for hanging baskets and nasturtiums (lovely fat, satisfying seeds to drop into each little pocket of soil). In a tiny bed in the floor of the new greenhouse I planted small plants of thyme (a lovely golden coloured one) and marjoram.

Mellors zoomed about pruning, digging beds and tidying the shed while, for the first time this year, wet clothes adorned the washing line instead of the radiators. I think we can safely say that spring has sprung.