At last. Three days of fine weather, days that feel like spring. Days for sowing seeds – Tuscan kale, Swiss chard, spinach, carrots, cauliflowers, leeks…

…for digging up the lawn and mowing what’s left of it…

…for tackling the ‘hedge of iniquity’ that runs the length of the back garden, extracting the tangle of ivy, holly, privet, hawthorn, sycamore and ash from the chicken wire that some erstwhile inhabitant has laid along the entire inner perimeter so creating an interweaving thicket of manic vegetable intensity that is impossible to cut properly. Meanwhile, inside the hedge the ivy has grown stems as thick as mooring ropes, looping and leaning, causing the holly to loop and lean too and think it is a creeper…

But I’m dealing with it calmly – one snip at a time. The only problem is my presence hedge-side keeps the sparrows away from their feeding station, and at the moment they are ravenous. I’m giving them a break while I write this post.

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For the last few weeks, through chilling winds, frost, rain and rare bursts of sunshine, we’ve been blessed with cherry blossom. Not our tree, but one growing just over the hedge near the back door. Now, the flowers are fading and falling and when we go outside, we’re sifted with tiny petals. The terrace flagstones too. It looks like confetti.

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But our own small cherry tree has begun to flower. It’s a Japanese variety, Kojo-no-mai, more of a shrub than a tree, and in time growing to around seven feet high and wide. It will be fine in a pot until the garden is finally ready for it. (Which won’t be soon). And while it’s so small, it can best show itself off on the terrace wall, where the honey bees have already found it. In fact as I was busy transplanting a Dame’s Violet (brought from the Wenlock garden) in the bed behind it, I suddenly realised my head was filled with bee-hum. Happy bees.

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As I work in the garden I lose track of time. This is a special Bishops Castle feature, the locals tell us. I hear the Town Hall clock strike the quarters between the hours: one chime for a quarter past, two for half past, three for quarter to. You can see the dilemma.

Sometimes a red kite drifts up and up over the garden. I feel myself lift and drift a little too.

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We’ve become avid sparrow watchers since we set up the bird feeding station. This was created from an existing tall post (of no obvious purpose) that rises from the hedge of iniquity, and seems to belong to the era of the dreaded chicken wire application. Anyway, it’s good for suspending feeders, and we can covertly watch the birds from the kitchen window. I like the way they pop in and out of the hedge.

Mostly, they’re good at taking turns.

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Lately, with the drier weather, dust bathing is the thing. The sunny front garden is a favourite spot. We’ve lifted all the ugly paving slabs that covered the two borders, leaving a skim of loose mortar on the soil. Ideal for synchronous avine plunging and dousing. On Monday, over lunch, we watched four go at once: essence of sparrow-joy as they worked the dirt through all their feathers. Later, as I go out to the shop,  I spot the four neat little hollows left behind. There’s an inclination to cup my hands and gather one up. Yes. Sparrow-joy. There’s much to be said for it.

Happy Spring , North-dwellers

 

P.S. As I write this, scaffolding is going up around the house, a two-day job apparently. Next week the roof is coming off. Heavens!