So here we are, the spring equinox – arriving mid- afternoon, depending on where you are reading this – the start of the prime days of rising sun and hope and gardening.
It begins a little later in Denmark. But here, too, signs of spring are read reverentially. The beach rugosa is in leaf bud. The honeysuckle’s shooting. Even further east and north, winter’s hold loosens.
We were back in Denmark recently for Ina’s birthday. We had her out for a long spring lunch at the summerhouse. Small glasses of good red wine. Henri’s famous chocolate cake (adapted from an old one of Ina’s). A cool sunny day, a firm grip on my arm, the garden snowdrops popping through the last remains – we hope – of the blizzards. We picked one for a glass on the table. Crocuses, too, are spreading: purples, creams, warm oranges.
Last autumn’s new narcissi are poking through. We’ll see if the deer leave them alone. We’d planted winter aconite under the copper birch. It is good to see it has taken.
The forsythia is in flower bud. We’ll hope to catch it in full glory at Easter. I top up the bird feeders to help get them through. Different feeds for different species, though the pheasants aren’t fussy with the scattered seeds and nuts. The male struts and shouts. The female focuses on feeding.
I know it was early in the first days of March, but I couldn’t resist spreading wild meadow seed and nasturtium. Perhaps the cherry trees will start to show by the time we return.
We’ll wander round, eyes alert for the smallest sign of change. For the shy naturalised tulips, the snakes head fritillary dotted through the meadow. It will be time to sow calendula. For buns and tea outside with Ina. A slow walkabout.
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