We’re in the month of May, an absolute favourite month of mine for the sheer vigour and exuberance of plants in gardens and across the land. After last week’s sidestep to write about my efforts at growing my own, I return, largely, to my regular post style which is recording my week in gardening.

Firstly therefore, I want to write my weekly summary of horticultural tasks and experiences that have taken priority this past week, then, I shall then move onto a more creative piece I’ve been wanting to write for a while.

Monday – Mowing. Fixing tree guards following animal damage. Plant labelling. Weeding. Tuesday – Scything. Weeding. Watering. Harvested wild garlic. Mixed compost. Wednesday – Watering in KG. Removal of vine from eaves and guttering of house. Mowing. Thursday – Watering and feeding. Mowing. Composting. Friday – Upcycled a pallet to make a vertical garden.

Now for that creative piece, where I want to record something that tops and tails each day of work*. This is of course, the journey itself. Don’t panic! I trust that this won’t be as strange as it might first sound…

You see, the roads emptied once lockdown tightened for so many people. I was used to giving way at the end of my road, to tip-toeing through my village whilst streams of kids and parents walked and cycled to school. Cars would criss-cross my path and lorries would have to double park to make deliveries. Then beyond the village, the road would open out into a cold, exposed and skeletonised landscape beyond. I think I made a new word there?! 🤔

Ribbons of traffic would thread along the Roman Fosseway as I headed south each day for the Cotswolds. I used to cross the Fosse on my previous journey to work, but for a while now I have been able to travel a good few miles along its route, where often I’ve marvelled at its engineering and historic associations. My historic imaginations whilst journeying though have always been momentary distractions, because the traffic always demanded focus.

A tracked tractor or tanker moving slowly. An artic’ lorry, with its steady speed adhered to rigidly mile-after-mile. Or worse by far, the ‘business’ folk who, with their evil eyed tourers or transit vans rapidly approached from behind, looking to dispense with my car as a piece of congestion that simply needed to move.

Some of these distractions are still there by the way, they never changed, for so many people just couldn’t ‘work from home’. In fact, in some ways the demon drivers just got worse, as I think they’ve acclimatised to emptier roads, and so the occasional obstruction like my self pooling along at the speed limit is even more intolerable, maybe. However, and here’s the thing, something so much bigger magically appeared during my journeying to work, and that was spring!

With an amplified ‘SPRI’ and a ringing ‘NNNG!’, April arrived and SPRING surged forward with a strong push from behind by Mother Nature herself.

Previously mown roadside verges sprouted golden buttercups, dancing daisies and bright blue speedwell. As lush grass started to grow in the margins beyond, dandelions pushed their jagged leaves through, picking-up the sunshine yellow daisy centres with their beautiful bee feeding blooms.

Ditches became drained of their winter floodwaters and hedgerows beyond moved from a relative nought, to foliage, to flowering, in just a handful of weeks – even the blackthorn hung around to join the party.

Parts of my journey nearer to dwellings brought extraordinarily bountiful crops of cherry blossom that kept on blooming in the calm conditions, and as if in response, the hedgerows betwixt and between lit up with pure white hawthorn flowers that joined the blossom festival and continues to shine now into May.

Larger and woodier specimens too have defied frosty mornings, surged sap, and their soft, verdant new season leaves have fully clothed the towering ash and richly textured oak trees. Although altogether more graceful and measured, the beech trees eventually joined in as well, although it’s the former two that appear most in the hedgerows that line the way and loop off over the gentle hills that run to the east and west of the Fosse.

Whilst I’m glad to be into my favoured May, I’ve had to take this moment to celebrate a spring that even for me, as someone used to being in and working with it, has been touched by its effect. Spring this year has arrived with such gravity and meaning that it’s been hard not to notice. The foliage and flowers have a new richness, and their presence this year in particular comes with more gravity and meaning than ever before.

These words have rattled around my head for a month now, because of my generally calmer journey to work. It’s as if the spring has paused everything, so that people could have a moment to really see what is going on outside our usual cocoons. Despite expert advice, I would say that the birds are singing louder to us, the lush new year foliage is greener and more calming than ever before, and the flowers are showing us their very best colours. Or maybe it’s just me?

When the road congestion builds anew and the general weight and pace of life returns to ‘a new normal’, I sincerely hope that new passions for plants and nature will play a bigger part for people. I personally look forward to watching the natural world around me continue to unfold, and I hope to more often be ‘in time’ wit the moment, with a new found sense of awareness – even if I do have to occasionally stop the car on the way to work, and take a moment to really look.

I think I’ll leave it there, for now…
Kind regards, Gary

*I’m thankful to be able to continue with my work over the past few weeks, I know this hasn’t been possible for so many people. From a working perspective, and as mentioned previously, I work at a single venue garden and pretty much ‘socially distance’ myself from the world on a daily basis! On the home front, I’ve only been able to continue working due to my good lady balancing childcare and home working – not an easy thing to achieve as you can imagine. But, things could be much worse, and we’re getting through Covid-19.