Dorset - Autumn to spring

'All was silent as before -

All silent as the dripping rain'

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The reordering is happening sooner that I thought. The seasons are so unpredictable and seem to take their toll. The winter was consistently wet and there was little frost; I find to my sadness that some of the plants that should have woken in spring have disappeared. It's those that I moved in the autumn – sanguisorba, allium, scabious, semi-aquilegia – that seem to have suffered. Some of the earth that should be showing signs of life is bare and needs to be enlivened. I embark on a frenzy of sowing, including seeds that Abi brought back for me from Mexico. I can't read the Spanish instructions, and anyway I don't think they would be applicable in my circumstances, so I scatter them and keep my fingers crossed.

There are places where there is a charming patchwork of spring bulbs and greenery and the tall walls are starting to be clothed by the climbing shrubs. On warm days we can sit in the sunshine and enjoy the surroundings.

 

Over the winter some miracles have been happening. The builders who have been with us for three years have now finished their work and we can claim back the visual and physical space taken up by their privy and building stone. I can get to the gardening equipment in the shed which up to now has been covered up by piles of dusty paint pots and bags of sand and, best of all, they have finished making the greenhouse.

    

The greenhouse is my pride and joy. It is very pretty – an oversized terrarium, really – and in a flash I have filled it. The sad citrus bushes that have been outside under fleece all winter, the rather dead-looking Christmas cactus plants, the auriculas that have been almost drowned and lots of trays of seeds. After a recent spending spree at the local garden centre there are a few tender plants as well waiting for the magic moment when the danger of frost is passed.