White blossom

I am glad Storm Gareth has finally tired of blowing over our isles. Unlike in February, the temperature has resumed normal lows and I need a jumper and two fleece jackets when I go round my garden (using my husband’s fleece last as it is big enough to wrap around all the layers). I have been pottering a bit, buying cheap plants from Wilko (see my gardening diary page), but haven’t got to sow anything yet, except for old love-in-the-mist seeds found in an envelope which I shook over the borders totally randomly.

It is now dry enough to walk through the field to go to school. This morning, the blackthorns turning into clouds gave me a longing for a majestic one we encountered in the Parc de Sceaux.

I was moved to hear my son reminding me of the hazel bushes growing around the play area there. His attention to living things feels somehow more rooted than mine, natural, native maybe – I want to say “older”. He walks ahead of me on the path to knowing and loving nature.

The other day, as I approached one the blackthorns, looking for that feeling of elation a surrounding of white flowers give, I found a set of keys hanging from a branch. It felt as an invitation.

Today, the sun is out, the keys are gone (unlike Brexit, it’s “blue, black and white”, dixit the son). Blooms are dripping with honey scent.

I realise that plants are arranged along our path to school so that, from February to the summer, we may enjoy white blooms almost continuously. Blackthorn are indeed followed by hawthorns, which then pass the baton to elder trees. By then, the whole field is covered in white daisies, and light seems to permeate the flesh and run into the blood. Overlooking the other side of the field, the cathedral tower shines with the dawn colours of limestone. So even though I can’t stop myself longing for the South (yes, this is Kent, but my South is the Mediterranean), wishing I lived in an old dry-stone house with an almond tree standing at the heart of the garden, I realise I am very lucky to live here. Plus, I would miss many of the plants England allows me to grow or admire in other gardens. Nevermind almond trees, blackthorn is enough for my heart.

Other signs of Spring : this year, acer palmatum Katsura beat everybody and was the first to leaf out.

Next was Sambucus nigra Black Lace, followed by acer palmatum Redwine. I can’t wait for the persimmon to open its buds.

There isn’t enough in my garden to allow me to participate in gardening blogs’ threads about March plants / blooms, but what I have, I cherish.