What a glorious day!
I actually managed to put everything else down today and get out into the garden for the first time this year. I am now aching all over and more than slightly springy in my outlook as a result.
Every year I put my garden to bed for the winter after months of harvesting and constant watering and, at that time, it all seems like a great big relief. The winter months come as a restful release and the brain so quickly forgets how the garden was created. Why the garden was created…
…and then comes the Spring. The renewal. The remembering.
How wonderful it is to get your hands into the soil again. To smell the blossoms, the daffodils and crocus. To pull the old herbs, their wizened roots gripping the soil’s depths. Three years they have given greatly. Given plenty. Given flavour. To soups and stews, pot roasts, tray bakes, roast dinners and salads. Now it is time to reinvigorate the herb beds. To dig down deep and grasp the great, thick tap roots. Pulling with all your might until, slowly, the soil begins to give and up comes the old to make way for the new. The root system shedding fluffy, aerated earth, so delicious and ready to accept the rich compost and the young, fresh plants. The air filled with the scent of parsley, thyme, mint and sage.
Planting out the baby broad beans. Grasping the bamboo stakes and once again, applying might from the pit of your gut to plunge them as far into the earth as possible. The sweat and the glory…
…and the wonder…
…how could I possilby have forgotten how much I love this?