It’s a bit soon to be talking of spring, but a friend was telling me earlier that a lupin she’d had from us last year was sprouting. That was enough to get me out on a tour of inspection. Sure enough, some of ours are pushing up timid little leaves, and so are the aquilegias. Achilleas are also coming back to life, though with the rotten selection of colours we got from last year’s seeds, they may not make it into a third season. (I have some of the big yellow ones to sow this year.) A couple of the hydrangeas are budding well: the lacy one is always later, but I’m sure it too will be showing buds soon. Next garden job is to get someone in to trim the hedges before the birds get too interested in nesting.
Martyn is working away in the attic again: where the layout used to end, it did so in a mountainside. Now that it has extended beyond that point, there was a sort of volcanic plug. That has now been dismantled, without recourse to nuclear ordinance, so he can see the sidings and the airport from his control panel. I think it’s a case of perpetual work in progress.
As for the more creative of my hobbies, Miss cancelled last week’s class because she was unwell, so I expect it’ll be another drawing day this coming Thursday. I’m starting to want to splash paint around with a big brush. But I need some inspiration: back to the Languedoc photos, I guess. And as for my other hobby, there are only ten days to go before I get to sit in a Magistrates’ Court again. If it isn’t cancelled in the meantime.
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