Sorrento settles in layers.

Arriving in wisteria season.
It hangs everywhere, softening the stone, pulling the place out of winter without much fuss.

The sun sits differently too, warm enough to turn the skin, not heavy enough to slow you down.

April didn’t arrive all at once.
It came slowly.
In things not quite taking.

March begins close to the ground.

You notice it in the smallest shifts. Tiny flashes of colour where there was none. Woodland anemones lifting themselves just above the soil, catching the light for a moment before folding back into it again.

Not the prettiest part of the year, but this is where the garden turns, even if it doesn’t look like it yet.

Early February rarely has much to show for itself beyond cold and damp.

You may remember my last post in February where I planted the tulip bulbs, by the way how have I not written anything since then… There were messages of, ‘No way will they grow?’ and ‘You really think you will get tulips?’ Sniggers could be heard all round, well here they are! Plumping up nicely, their petal cups slowly unfolding to reveal their buried treasures. Taking time to emerge into their final cloak of full glory.

These short days are deliberate in taking gardening plans and ambitions slowly. They encourage sourcing through pages of books, scribbling down plant names, combination planting, natives, pollinator friendly and simply the flowers that have caught my eye. Seizing snippets of time I flit back and forth between handwritten notebook and electronic notes. These conceptions need to be plotted in the coming weeks in order to prep, restore and plant.

Where have I been you may ask….

I am happy to close the door firmly on last year, a year that ended in radio silence and very little in the way of creating and being in the moment. Life simply took over and other responsibilities were up front leaving me in a state of time critical, high priority, urgent and dependent. Something had to give.

You may have seen recently noticed I posted on stories on instagram about the plight of my plot, not knowing where to begin and feeling rather overwhelmed. A feeling that happens almost every year when I have done little to no work over the winter period. Why it still comes as a surprise is beyond me…

I talk myself round with ‘it’s still early’ (a comment someone kindly sent me) but there are so many other projects to prep, continue and finish the ones that were never completed from last year. I pat myself on the back kindly thank me for the carry over workload, pull on my boots and begin to stand and stare… and slurp tea. It doesn’t look it’s best.

An itch… That needs scratching… I’m done with the tea drinking, blanket wrapping and looking out the window into a coal black sky every morning and evening.

We are emerging from the shadowy winter and I couldn’t be more ready to put those flower dreams into reality.

Like the dahlia’s where I have notepads and diaries full of scribbles, sketches, doodles and notes this prompts me to make a mental note to chronicle the Mums.

I decant sweetpea seeds from parched unfurling cases. In a week or so these will be sown for early blooms at the end of spring next year and we will have granddaughters of Piggy Sue sweetpeas once again.