Yesterday was the first real day of spring in our garden.
That is, the first day warm and sunny enough to tempt me out of the house to actually see what’s happening out there.
It was a pleasant surprise.
Far from everything being dead, as expected, there are some lovely things growing!
The forget-me-nots are just opening, peeping out from under the hedge and between blades of uncut grass at the edge of the lawn.
The oriental poppies have produced an encouraging show of greenery:
But the stars of this spring’s show are the primroses…
I remember as a child watching Geoffrey Smith on telly.
Forever with a pair of pruning shears in hand, he seemed always hell bent on “cutting back hard”, hacking shrubs to shreds and dishing out his particular brand of tough love to plants.
I think this must’ve penetrated my subconscious and scarred me, for I am not a ruthless gardener.
I should have taken a tough approach with my prims at the end of last spring, dividing them up so they were more evenly spread across the border, giving them room to grow. But a combination of holidays away, laziness and a feeling of pointlessness at the very thought of gardening following such a poor summer weather-wise, meant that I didn’t bother.
As it turns out, my prims knew what to do and have turned out proper without any help from me.
