May Day and a bitter East wind blows the blossoms from the trees. Cherry boughs ripe with bloom, Beech in green garlands dance in silent symphony. From the wood the Partridge reaches a crescendo, a cacophonous calling beneath the low Larch boughs. Rain raps quietly on the slated roof; no maidens called to bathe in early dew. But the “darling buds of May”, not yet unfurled, wrapped tight in Hawthorn leaf, are pregnant with Autumn expectation. The grey garden filled with promise as bright flowers, jewels in the green sward, lift their faces, crowning the morning…

“Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring,
With sudden passion languishing,
Maketh all things softly smile,
Painteth pictures mile on mile,
Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths,
Whence a smokeless incense breathes…”

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Welcome to all who have recently started following my post, it is a bit eclectic at times but generally it’s the unfolding story of a herb garden and the creatures who dwell in it. This morning a Bulfinch arrived in rosy garb and a Yellowhammer the colour of Gorse.

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