Week 14

Matchy matchy gardens; invisible pathways revealed; a patch of May

Hello!

I think it is high time we resumed our weekly seasonal catch up, don’t you? A bit of mathematics tells me that this is now week 14 but mathematics was never a strong suit so do feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.

My news is that The Almanac 2024 is written! People are always surprised that it has to be done so early in the year, but it now heads into a lengthy process of editing, laying out, design, illustration and lots of fact checking and proof reading, then printing and distribution before appearing in your book shops on September 1st. As soon as I have anything more to share you can be sure that I will share it with you first (and of course it would be remiss of me to miss this opportunity to remind you that The Almanac 2023 is still very much for sale).

For those that have joined us during my sabbatical, a recap. Every week I write about three things I have noticed that felt particular to this week in the year, be it in the garden, the woods, the kitchen, the shops, even on the telly. I write about them, and then you tell me about yours, in the comments.

Normally I start off with a round up of your comments, but as we don’t have any for this week due to the break, I will dive straight in to mine.

Matchy-matchy gardens

This is one of the moments in the year when the reasoning behind people’s oddly painted front doors and walls is revealed with great clarity. Bright pink door and shed? Hmmm…unusual choices but you do you... I am not quite judging you but…well ok, maybe a little… And then as March creeps into April your massive front garden tree reveals itself to be a Magnolia soulangeana and wow, it all falls into place. What dedication to the fleeting! What joy in the ethereal! The effort that has gone in here to a maximum two weeks of beautifully matchy-matchy glory. I love it.

Invisible pathways revealed

It is peak wild garlic in my local woods. It is a crazy woods for it; the stuff is absolutely everywhere, carpeting the formerly brown and muddy ground in luxuriant green shag pile. And I noticed this week that its presence has revealed the invisible pathways taken by the dogs as they trot up the valley sides and down to the water. I always thought they were individualists, each pup going their own way and seeking out their own paths: apparently not. The wild garlic has shown up their secret network, like a UV light shone on a page of invisible pen writing.

A patch of May

This was up against a hedge in a very sheltered corner of the park, a patchwork of greens: nettle tips, sticky willies and hawthorn leaves. Such art. The green is so fresh and so joyous and I realise I am slightly wishing away the season, which is absolutely NOT what this newsletter is meant to be about…but it made me think forward to May, when everything is going to be this colour, and get excited.

That’s it from me, except for one tiny bit of housekeeping: during my sabbatical I switched off the ability to pay for this newsletter. I have now switched it back on, which means that if you wish you can take out a paid subscription and support me in nurturing this place for us all to gather and celebrate the seasons together. It costs as little as 79p per week if you take out an annual subscription, or £1.25 per week if you take out a monthly one. At some point in the not too distant some of my posts are going to go behind the paywall (though never this weekly one, which is as much yours as it is mine), so you can ensure you don’t miss a thing by signing up now, below, if you fancy.

I hope that you will leave your own comments about the seasonal things you have noticed this week, and then next week we will get back into our old pattern in which I kick off by repeating your comments back to you, like a seasonal poem. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve spotted. Over to you.