Spring sunshine always reveals the dust of winter forcing the urge to get everything outside into warm air, winter-wear pullovers are shaken before careful hand-washing whilst heavy coats must be prepared for storage; the sudden change in weather mid-month resulted in a huge leap from woollen gloves to summer vests almost overnight. the various cast-off garments were soon jumbled as I had numerous outings where nice clothes could be worn. How strange to see a pair of grey wool gloves in my handbag whilst I prepared for a day out, braving London without a coat…one step outside warned me I would roast even if I selected the lightweight version, so spotting those gloves lurking with all my handbag essentials was bizarre!
Thus all the winter wear was cleaned and stored, the summer layers selected and warm days enjoyed with sun cream applied. Now the month is closing with a nasty reminder that winter only hid behind the curtains for a second.
As I tackle my garden to invite spring and new life I think how confused the plants must be with these temperature fevers, where sudden dry summer sensations are swamped by water-logged chilled days and nights; plants and flowers which had been fooled into bursting out of the safety of their buds are again at the mercy of torrential downpours and fierce storms. Once the Easter rains had stopped I had tried to tackle the mess of an ice-ravaged garden where the mushed leaves delivered nothing but images of decay; hard to imagine there had ever been any colourful joy in those pots and semi-controlled patches.
Thus the confusion is both indoors and out; I will dig into my wardrobe and drawers to find layers to keep myself warm and dry but I’ll select shades to reflect the label of spring; my plants will have to suffer whatever is thrown at them…I’m amazed that they take such a battering but eventually return. At the moment I’m still waiting to be reassured that my Passionflower has survived the February snows when I wasn’t there to protect it. However, I’m rather glad that it wasn’t coaxed by the false heat when I wore summer dresses; perhaps its tender new growth sensed the false start and forced itself to ignore the mini-heatwave mid-month? Passionflowers carry an exotic air with their complex flowers; worth waiting for, they remind me that luscious intricate beauty can lurk behind dried stalks. I will be thankful to see my Passionflower return from the dead…