CELEBRATING SPRING
Robins have become the nation’s favourite winter bird, especially at Christmas and they're often decorated with snow. But our delightfully tame robin says there’s light at the end of the tunnel and it’s not a train coming. No, surprise surprise, it’s the sun and Spring is approaching fast!
And being early February, there are numerous signs of seasonal change and todays’ happy snaps in our Dorset garden prove it’s not just a figment of our imagination.
First to come is the witch-hazel, related to the word witch, and they certainly bring lots of magic to our garden. Often called the ‘Winterbloom’ in North America, from where these shrubs originate, they usually start flowering at Christmas in our sheltered patch in southern England.
The witches beautiful scent fills the air and it seems this attracts lots of small insects, for this diminutive goldcrest, Britain’s smallest bird, spends hours gleaning goodies from the blooms. I must try to capture a better photo as it dodges through the flowers on blurred wings.
Snowdrops are a favourite harbinger of spring and what a relief it is to see them after yet another dark and wet winter. You probably noticed! There were so many dull, damp days that it was difficult to avoid becoming depressed, for I don’t remember ever suffering a season when so many named storms rushed past.
But the sun is shining now and our snowdrops are forcing their way through last Autumn’s leaf litter and making us smile.
Known since the earliest times and described by a Greek author in the fourth century, snow drops were named Galanthus in 1753 and have become celebrated for welcoming happier days ahead.
Thought to be a British native wild flower, or brought to us by the Romans, they were most likely introduced from Europe in the early 16th century and naturalised by 1770.
Tourists flock in their thousands to the best displays in large woodland gardens, but fanatical collectors, called ‘Galanthaholics’, specialise in cultivating individual plants that change hands for eye-watering amounts of money.
As February days lengthen, our garden begins to glow with the blooms of the many camellias that we’ve planted during the more than four decades we've lived here.
They are plants that reward us with their beautiful blooms for nearly six months every year and they thrive in our damp, shady soil, threatening to join the surrounding trees up in the sky. We love 'em.
Another shrub that’s thriving and threatening to become a tree is our delightful daphne, not just a joy to the eye but the nose too because their strong scent fills the top of the garden with heavenly delight.
It's difficult to believe that such an apparently delicate plant is used for paper making in Nepal and Bhutan, and harvested sustainably too.
Crocuses are beginning to push up through our soggy wildflower meadow, and in the borders, Sue’s carefully tended hellebores are blooming wonderful, glowing in the soft spring sunshine.
Hellebore is an ancient Greek word and their popular names include Winter Rose and Christmas Rose, and even though they are not related to roses, they do provide nectar for early bees.
The memorable day last year when the frogs started to spawn in our marsh was February 5th, so our local buzzard provided an extraordinary example of a well developed biological clock, for it arrived at breakfast time on the very same day this year. It sat for half an hour above the spot, looking down at the spawning site in the hope of an early meal.
Yes, frogs are on a buzzards menu, the meat scrapped off the skin high up on oak tree branches.
Our local bird returned again at lunch time before leaving after another long and fruitless wait.
So far we’ve seen only one or two frogs, so are concerned that they are not going to show. And that would be very disappointing, given that we have enjoyed as many as forty frolicking in their spawn in previous years.
Many years ago, the garden was merely a heathland clearing beside our 18th Century cob cottage, so it’s no surprise that the spiky gorse springs up randomly wherever there are sandy patches. We delight in their colourful scented flowers and so do the early season insects.
Despite the grotty weather, our birds are starting to sing, most notably two song thrushes that are announcing their claim for territories at dawn every day. Loudly!
Several robins are also staking their claims and our tame lady is also adding a few notes between her frequent hand outs. Yes, the British Trust for Ornithology tell me that lady robins do sing too. And how do I know she’s a female? Well, she told me!
She is very talkative, always answering my greetings, and if she’s hungry, which is often, she flies up to my office window to get noticed, and if I’m not paying attention, she taps on the window. She’s certainly got Sue and I well trained.
Feeling her delicate, cold, wet feet on my hand is a delight, especially as it took me the best part of three months to entice my beautiful lady to trust me so closely. And there’s no better feeling than winning the trust of wildlife, especially in our personal refuge from the outside world, a refuge for both us and our wildlife.
Halleluiah to that, with our birds adding the Chorus!
