Spring in England

Spring in England is wonderful; lush, green and sweet smelling, the sweetness varies according to where you are: countryside, riverbank or an English country garden. In springtime each has its own particular charm. No one is better than another, just different and all most enjoyable.

Our garden is no exception. Come out of our front door and the heady sweet scent of hyacinth fills the air and surrounds the senses. Come in the gate and sweet delicate fragrance of violets tickles one’s “nosebuds” and causes one to sniff appreciatively, while turning this way and that, bending and stretching until the source is discovered. How could such a beautiful, delicate, lingering perfume come from such a tiny flower as the violet? But is does.

There are hundreds of bright, golden yellow daffodils and tens of narcissi of varying shapes, colours and sizes. Spanish and English bluebells are beginning to carpet large areas in blue, and the evergreen viburnum has forsaken its pink buds and burst into bloom, overcoating its dark green leaves with white and making a beautiful show along half the boundary of the garden. The deciduous viburnum Carlesci is even more showy and smells wonderful as does the deep pink viburnum Bodnatense, which produces small clusters of powerfully scented flowers from October to April.

The forsythia is 10 feet tall and 7 feet wide – a bright yellow spectacle, no leaves, just bare stems, but with flowers so dense no wood can be seen.

The magic snowdrops are finished, also the aconites, but there is so much else taking their place that it isn’t sad.

The magnolia stellata is in full bloom now and is breathtakingly beautiful – my favorite part of the day to enjoy it is dusk, because as the light fades and everything else is lost to the darkness and shadows so the magnolia stellata shines out with a pure, white luminosity.

The long-tailed tits, which all winter have visited the garden in flocks, are now reduced to a single pair. They are, as always, nesting in the front hedge, fairly high up and hopefully out of the reach of passing hands. One sad year, no sooner had they finished building their nest than some thoughtless passerby attempted to steal their beautiful ball of softness interwoven with countless cobwebs. This person destroyed the nest and succeeded only in taking three-quarters of it. I felt so upset for the tits. They had worked so hard and I was looking forward to the young taking their first flight. Where, or if, they built a replacement I don’t know, but it certainly wasn’t in my hedge. It is amusing to note that apart from the cobwebs and other delicate, natural fripperies, they also use man-made articles. Each spring I make sure there is a tennis ball in the centre of the lawn, the long-tailed tits make repeated trips, with one on a nearby branch to keep watch, while the other delicately balanced on the tennis ball, slowly and painstakingly collecting the fluffy coating. When they have laid bare the smooth underneath, I turn the ball and they continue until it is a smooth sphere.

The greenfinches have been working very hard collecting fur I combed from our dog and hung on the honeysuckle to help them with their nest building.

Both the crows and the magpies have been breaking twigs from high up in the birch tree. The crows drive the magpies away, but as soon as the crows turn their backs the magpies return. The starlings have been collecting beakfuls of dried plant material, while the blackbirds have been carrying all manner of things, even small pieces of paper, silver foil, and pieces of polythene, and not least of all, beakfuls of mud from the pond.