Tuesday, 30 April 2013


Here I am - just a stuck in the mud - lawn tractors are very heavy - I can vouch for that. Got stuck in boggy part of garden and in the end the only way out was to lift one end of the tractor sideways and then the other! All that is left now is a big muddy churned piece of lawn full of water. So out with the power spray and wash the machine then into the shower and wash the gardener.
I await the revenge of the injured back.

Bees a humming, summers a coming! First swallows over the house and everything cannot wait any longer. Buds breaking everywhere. Even the ash trees have got flower buds coming.
R is brambling amongst the bluebells - which are budding, the cold wind dropped today and finally some warmth. Mug of tea, seat in sun - aah!
There could be a frost tonight. We will now begin a month of fervent prayer for the blossom on the fruit trees. Last year a frost wiped out the lot.
Netting has been bought and installed around the flowering red currants. Last year it only took two days for the blackbirds and thrushes to eat the lot.

We have a gradually expanding primrose banking (there are a few wood anemones and bluebells,
celandines and such there too) by dividing every
year and replanting after flowering.
They are so pretty, especially in a small vase, and smell wonderful.
In Ireland the Primrose is the samhaircin, the May flower (the actual name by which it is known in Donegal, as in Shetland), the spring harbinger. (from The Englishman's Flora by Geoffrey Grigson).
He also list local names such as Buckie-faalie from Caithness, Butter Rose from Devon, and Simerin in Yorkshire (cf. Norse kusmyre, 'cow anemone'.)

The garden is peppered with tulip remnants - one here, a few there - unlifted in the autumn as buried deeply. They gradually wane in vigour, one of the worst for this being the pretty tulip Annabelle.

My son is trying to improve the appearance of this blog with great advice - actually his dad could do with a little (a lot I hear) attention - so if you see any change it is his fault. If it continues in its current state than all his advice has fallen on stony (no muddy) ground.

Currently Ulverston has its walking festival in full flow so I went to and event in the garden of Swarthmoor Hall (George Fox, Margaret Fell, quakers and stuff) where we sat on our backsides and sketched. I ate lunch and defaced a few sheets of drawing paper before consigning them to the bin when I got home. But it was peaceful and quakery in there.
My Great Great Grandfather and his wife visited Swarthmoor when they were on their honeymoon in June 1847. It was strange to imagine him sitting in the garden looking up at the old building just as I was 166 years later.

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