Buds

Dear Readers,
Here we are! Not lost, just busy, just tired, just taking a moment to sit with our shared flask of ginger tea, wiping our snotty noses, watching winter and spring swing around in their season-switching dance.

Hard frost crackles, soft petals bloom.

We had been busy with the old art of hedge laying, busy sorting and tidying the felled trunks, branches, and twigs. There are heaps and stacks and bundles - these boundaries have been untouched for decades - but birds are beginning to gather materials for nests, heralding the end of our hedgework for a while.
Our thoughts have turned to The Planting Plan, so we pace around measuring canopy distances before going home to pour over the map, again, again.
 
Two plum trees wait in pots, they have their spots marked.
Everything else is a maybe.

Down along the iron fence are lines and lines of daffodils, all in bud. Only one has opened, a miniature narcissus staring bravely up at the big world. We are inspired of course, though we, like the full-sized daffs, remain bundled in ideas, in the cosy fullness of promise.

Thank you for your patience, dear readers, dear followers of this adventure.
Please be assured that we would rather risk getting it wrong than not doing it, so soon we’ll be blithely skipping hither and thither through our margin for error; mess or success, it will be beautiful in fruition, for how can art, love, and nature combine in any other way?

See you on the green side,
Me, Mr, and the many little helpers x 

Grandchild 4  learning how to lay hedges and tidy up