The garden is waking up, slowly slowly. We have had snowdrops for a while now, and last week the daffodils started raising their drooping heads and putting on their yellow bonnets. A couple of days of real warmth and 'spring-is-in-the-air' smells lured us out to start our planting.
This week it's back to freezing winds and snow flurries!
It's all the same to the moss though, as long as it's wet it's happy whatever the temperature. Our waterlogged pots on the wall are sporting a pretty harvest of different mosses, like a miniature forest.
![]()
![]()
This week it's back to freezing winds and snow flurries!
It's all the same to the moss though, as long as it's wet it's happy whatever the temperature. Our waterlogged pots on the wall are sporting a pretty harvest of different mosses, like a miniature forest.
Though floods of winter bustling fall
Adown the arches bleak and blea,
Though snow-storms clothe the mossy wall,
And hourly whiten o’er the lea;
Yet when from clouds the sun is free
And warms the learning bird to sing,
’Neath sloping bank and sheltering tree
’Tis sweet to watch the creeping spring.
John Clare