The grass is growing. Every time I blink, there are new leaves on my trees. The other day our ornamental cherry exploded into pink blossom. The fields are abuzz with the brave, fluffy bumble bees.The blackcurrant bushes outside our garden seem to be covered in a pristine, light green haze. The spring sun peeks out of the morning mist above the lake. Spring has well and truly sprung.
Every morning I pass a very special spot on the farm. It is a garden that has never been planted or cultivated.
A few years ago our neighbours did some ground works in their garden. The topsoil had to be scraped and put aside. Except they didn’t have any ‘aside’. So they came over to us and asked if they could borrow a little corner by the drive. The unsightly pile was visible from the road and looked a bit messy but my husband didn’t mind. He was not precious about that particular piece of land.
Time passed and the neighbours collected their topsoil and filled their garden with it. End of story.
But it wasn’t. And luckily, it never will be.
Every year since the small patch of fallow land bursts into life. First the snowdrops. Then the daffodils. After them the whole place starts filling with the scent of mint. Later it all turns pink with flowers that I haven’t quite identified yet. And so it goes year after year.
It is a small, insignificant corner of the farm that would be forgotten otherwise. The few wayward bulbs make it special though. A reminder that giving actually means receiving.