I have a cold, a very noisy cold, one with loud sneezes and sniffs which leaves your head feeling like cotton wool, but not yet so bad as to require confinement. I managed to get out to inspect the good work that has been going on this week . In the garden greenhouse, seeds are starting to come up, not many given how cold it has been, but a start. Down on the allotment, we are starting to progress beyond the construction stage. The late-planted daffodils are flowering. A modest start, but uplifting nevertheless on a cold, grey day.
Behind the shed, aspidistra and wild garlic have been planted in the damp and shade. Like everything else, they need a bit of time. They should like it, provided that the slugs and snails don't get the better of them. And by sheer coincidence, there were some recipes from Hugh F-W today for wild garlic in the weekend Guardian- scrambled eggs, wild welsh rarebit, nettle and wild garlic soup and skordalia. Next year maybe.
Beyond the back of the shed, we have not made much horticultural progress. I shall be putting my onions and chitted potatoes in as soon as the weather and my cold improve. In the meantime, I have had to look for floral pleasures elsewhere. Displays of a more woolly kind...
And shelter from the wild and wet elements.
I know, I know. So predictable. But I am little poorly, you know.