Season of the witch hazel

What a difference a week makes. Steady temperatures in double figures, allowing us to work the land a little. The alliums unleashed, responding to light and lengthening days. If you stop to listen carefully you can hear the warming soil slowly start to exhale (and, thankfully, me along with it). I know it is only early February but Candelemass has come and gone and it feels like everywhere, everything is starting to stir, stretch. The goosedown duvet is less enticing. Like having been stuck inside too long aged 10 and your best friend's wondering if you're ready to play. Or wanting to hold hands on the walk to school. Now I know this is sounding a far way from practical, but bear with me? Feels like a weight is shifting from soil and soul... It was almost spring on Sunday and for the first time this year I see Mary at the site. (The witch hazel pictured is on the part of her plot dedicated to her late husband Donald, without whom we wouldn't be here.) Was good to stand, smile and talk onions, garlic and why we've both bought too many potatoes. We resolved, too, not to again fall so deeply for sunflowers (just cannot afford the shade). I moodied around with a hand hoe, tidied up, chewed wild bittercress. The light stayed strong later. And like the year and earth, I turned a corner. Good to be back everyone, now how are you? Postscript : this video just landed in my inbox from the wonderful Cleve West , a brilliant, talented and sensitive gardener. Made me smile, hope it does the same for you....