April with her sweet showers is supposed to pierce the drought of March to the root – well it hasn’t done that so far. It has been the driest March for years here. On the plus side it means clean dogs when you come back from a walk, remarkably few snails and slugs, on the minus side the fruit trees blossom time has been exceptionally short, though very sweet.
There are blizzards of falling magnolia and cherry petals on the paving stones of Bristol; Zeb has been coming in from the garden looking like he has been on a film set with fake snow in his curls.
Last weekend saw the temperatures soar well above the norm and the English jumped into their hot pants, dug out their BBQs, dug their gardens and allotments, walked their dogs, pulled muscles if you were me, and generally got into the swing of a sudden change in season, dusting off their summer clothes and thinking about holidays, opening up their caravans, hastily sowing seeds, dividing perennials, greeting the plants that have survived the winter and so on. We didn’t get as far as BBQs, I dragged all the chairs out, Brian mended the parasol and we had a Gardeners’ lunch instead, sitting squinting into the bright new Spring sunshine!
In the raised veg bed some plants with feathery tops have been resolutely growing all through the winter. I vaguely thought they were chervil or something from a packet of mixed salad seeds. Brian dug them up and to our surprise found they were a clump of carrots that had somehow survived the frost. Our elation turned to disappointment very quckly as they were woody and inedible, so they have been added to our compost maker.
I owe you a bread post, and it’s almost ready, but as Zeb says, sometimes it’s just nice to snooze in the sun.