'April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain. ' - TS Eliot
|Frogs porn on my pond!|
Will it be a warm May? A spectacular summer? Will it be a fruitful season with a cornucopia of crops and floral-abundance? Or will we spend the next few months shivering in the greenhouse as we watch relentless rain filling up the lovingly dug plot, planted with such high hopes?
It doesn't matter; Spring is a beautifully-wrapped gift waiting to be revealed and that sense of excited expectation is part of the fun.
The birds are full of purposeful activity in the mornings, my body is getting used to that loss of an hour's sleep and beginning to love the later lightness of evenings. Tender baby leaves are unfurling on my fruit trees and bushes. The filthy little frogs have filled my pond with spawn after a noisy and frantic orgy! And the spring flowers are making the neglected corners of the plot look alive and loved.
Never mind that the last five days have been misty and moisty with Saharan smog, and flat grey skies. Never mind that I have a streaming cold...
I have seeds! And seeds mean a flurry of activity,with the promise of so many good things to come.
|Might have overdone it a tiny bit on seeds....|