The ides of March.

14°C, cloudless sky and light wine.

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A fine spring day. Large numbers of plants have burst into bloom this week. Warm weather has sped them on and I’ve seen the first bumble bees.

Brown-field site.

12°C, dry with white cloud and weak easterly.
I love this time of year. My fascination for the inner city wasteland is greatest now until June.

Here is the first shoots of artimesia absinthium, (or is it vulgaris). This plant still holds its spell, not just because Chernobyl day is soon. The photo was taken in Walsall on the site of a demolished factory near work. They like sandy, slightly acidic soil and are most easily found on brown-field sites.
If only they would grow in my garden. The soil is too rich after all my efforts to feed it with compost.
The continuing recession should give these plants a chance to flower and set seed. That patch of land is for sale but there are no indications of a buyer yet. I expect it will be bought by a developer who builds tiny flats as “affordable homes”.
For me, there is always a little disappointment when these plots are dug up.

Burnt Magnolia.

6C, cold day with hard frost.
Poor magnolia was burnt by the hard frost on Tuesday morning. Cold weather waited for spring before visiting us.

This is quite an early flowering variety, so it’s vulnerable really.

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Hazel.

7°C, no wind, clear.
Spring is just starting, ontime for the first of March. The garden is coming alive, and I have over 100 bulbs for a more colourful summer.

After a decade, I cleared the lockup (where I keep the bikes) in three corners was evidence of mouse nest building, they must have collected seeds from the bird feeder. To make themselves comfey, they made beds of dry moss.

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Horsetail verdentification.

18°C, clear.

A decaying school near home. I dropped in today for a gander. There used to be a lot of work done on their garden, lots of fine plants surrounded by clambering wild plants. One cracked and mossy concrete area has hundreds of horsetail plants thrusting up through unseen gaps.
Lovely, eery place.

Week off.

14C, lighter wind.
I need a holiday. With a week off, this empty feeling should recede. A week is not enough to get everything done- domestic re-arrangements, hiking, visiting, (not least) marking.
Anyway, I have been to a wedding. Of society’s demands, this is my least favourite. No, I hate weddings, please don’t make me go to another.

Bank holiday.

12°C, getting warmer.
Not my favourite choice this weekend, you can guess what I want to do. What I have to do is all domestic. For each of the last few years, Mayday has seen me camped in Wales, in between mountains. This year, I am moving stuff around in the house to, potentially, make space for a second lodger.

There will be discoveries, long lost possessions from my life, and from others who have gone.

Whitebeam unfurling leaves in early May.