It's very cold here in London - so cold, that I think my brain has frozen. I have managed to keep pace with the garden chores, but in a very slow, sluggish sort of way. I need to be in the garden in order to think creatively about it. My favourite method of thinking up new ideas involves standing in the middle of the lawn, staring into space. It's difficult to do that when it is -2C outside.
Things are happening - daffodils are budding, and blossom is blooming - but the atmosphere is one of suspended animation. It's as if the garden is holding its breath, waiting for the first warm rays of sun before it exhales and starts getting on with normal life.
In the meantime, there's very little I can do apart from pop out to fill up bird feeders and pop back in again pdq. It's still too early to think about replacing anything I lost in the winter, and it will be another six weeks before it's safe to think about summer pots and containers.
You can never tell with English weather, though. My son's birthday is at the end of March, and very often it coincides with an early heatwave. One minute, you're huddled in cashmere and fleece, and the next, you're frantically unearthing T-shirts and shorts from the back of the wardrobe. Fingers crossed!
The picture shows the garden at 6.30am this morning, just before I went to work. For once, the thought of being in a nice warm office all day quite appealed.
