The grass was being cut today in the park across the road. The unmistakeable sappy, mild, oniony smell drifted pleasantly on the damp air, and drew me out to the front garden for a wander; mug of tea in hand.
In Spring, the garden changes so rapidly; where in February there had been, fleetingly and beautifully, snowdrops, there is now a variety of spring flowers, some inherited with the house, some planted since we moved here in 2004.
I never know if I truly think the Magnolia looks primitive, or if I am simply influenced by the knowledge that fossil records show it was indigenous to Europe; North America and Asia over 100 million years ago. I planted ours eight years ago, and it blooms, modestly and prettily, every year.
This reliable clump of Aubrietia appears every Spring. It can be seen from the kitchen window and is a happy reminder of the day my mum spent planting tiny plants all along the garden wall with Jacob, then a toddler.
Along the paths grow cheerful little Grape Hyacinths , which spread determinedly year on year. Impossible to resist picking a handful, along with some Narcissus from a pot outside the front door, to make a tiny Spring bouquet.
Then finding a suitably diminuitive vessel for display.
In baking news, Derek has requested some baking for a business meeting on Friday, so that gives me a date for baking re-entry after my recent illness. I haven't had the energy so far, but am pleased to have a definate day to aim for. Photo's and recipe will follow afterwards.