It’s half term and the weather has continued with its succession of weather fronts providing torrential rain to leave the earth sodden. Yesterday it did not stop all day although this made little difference to me as I had ricked my back on Tuesday trying to heal in the rhubarb I was transplanting from up the road. A day inside in front of the fire and TV tuned to winter Olympics was probably the best option all round.
But when the short hours of daylight are filled with boggy walks in torrential downpours one needs to be on the lookout for positive indicators. And there are some. There are plenty of snowdrops in the garden and along the banks of the stream winking shyly in the occasional watery sunshine. The first green shoots of the transplanted aliums are looking strong and vibrant in the cold pond bed. In the tubs – some of which we acquired with the house and some of which had planted ourselves – the early shoots are coming through. I have no idea what is in which, irrespective of whether we planted them or not, so there is an eager anticipation in trying to work out what each set of shoots is going to produce.
And out the front there are plenty of bunches of daffodils springing up.
And just to prove the days really are getting longer the hens have started laying again. These two lazy layers take more time off than your average MP. They have not laid an egg since early autumn, it seems, so it is a pleasure to have the occasional newly laid offering once again. The chickens have really recuperated after looking sad and emaciated before we moved them down. Now they have beautiful plumage (to quote Monty Python) and their combs are red and firm. The black hen is looking sprightly though the brown one is still limping along , trying to persuade me that she needs reclassification for the paralympic winter sports.
Perhaps if we classify her in the LW2 category (“major physical impairment in one leg”) she will start laying too.