Spring garden

The weekend was cold and bleak, and the nights are still giving us frost, but we are determined this year to get back on top of the vegetable patch. We got out there and dug, forking out all the shepherd’s purse, and buttercups, and dandelions that have accumulated over the last year. I have a grudging respect for dandelions – that flagrant yellow head, unbowed by anything I can do – but I loathe couch grass: pale, friable roots that spread malignantly through the bed.

My reward for hard work was the sight of fresh green sprouts from my walking onion (which I planted last year, and thought had walked off into the night), and a colander full of curly kale – to fill the hungry gap. My kale has become a perennial, and I appreciate its efforts. The rhubarb is showing through now, as well, and there are birds examining each tree for building potential. The rooks have colonised a new ash tree, though I am wondering if the tree will survive at all. I suspect ash die-back…

All of this is to say that life goes on, blooming, flourishing, fading, dying; and I go on, trying to keep myself grounded in the here and now, making plans for this year, next year, sometime.

This is my favourite time of year, in many ways. I can make resolutions now that I can’t make in January, when the world is old and cold. These new buds make me want to renew myself, inspire me to exercise, to be mindful about that extra biscuit. Cutting out chocolate digestives in January is not reasonable, but in March it seems entirely sensible.

I may yet make myself a wreath of daffodils and dance around the orchard.




About sarahsouthwest

I'm now in my early 50s. I started writing again as a way of exploring the world, and feel that over the last 2 years I have really grown as a writer. By day I work with children and young people with mental health difficulties. I juggle my own two children, my work, my writing practice, generally managing to keep all the balls up in the air.
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