wild flowers – Tiny Potager

I welcome the promise of rain. Our plants desperately need it and I can feel the storm coming. The air feels heavy, the sky seems closer. It is only midday and yet the familiar bright tones of the garden seem washed out in the dim half-light belonging to dusk.

As the clouds roll over the hill at speed, we are pulling on our waterproof coats for the first time in weeks, ready to get outside and be willingly caught in the downpour. The long grass in the meadow is already drenched and water droplets flick up at us as we hike through it.

I have my second and third sons with me today and they run ahead together, slipping a little here and there in the mud, laughing as they do, charging headlong into the wind.

We turn off before the woodland today, taking a newer, southerly path through the lower fields. Only a week ago, the newly sewn crops were almost imperceptible and yet now the fields are a vivd seedling-green. The storm-light brings out the russet tones of the dried grass beside the footpath. Cow parsley is in bloom now, a dusting of white froth along the hedges.

The fallen tree, with its outstretched roots and branches, has been here so long now the path politely curves around it. I call to the boys to wait for me and stop briefly to take a look at the green patches of lichen. Close-up, it is a thriving world of its own.

The ancient byway shines with pools of water, meanwhile our boots become increasingly heavy with the clay soil-turned-to-mud. For a moment, the rain is sideways, blowing down from the higher ground, we brace ourselves against it and then, suddenly, the sun breaks through.

We are close to home now, and take a pause to look over to the distant city through a gap in the hedgerow. We shake off our hoods, exhilarated at the beautifully crisp air that the rain has left behind. We stand together for a few minutes, my arms around my sons’ shoulders, as we watch the storm sweep its way southwards.

—Keep safe and well everyone. With heartfelt thanks to all those who are working to keep us safe, especially those on the frontline in the NHS and hospitals around the world.—

Visit my Little Art Shop: www.tinypotager.shop

Commission Enquiries: tinypotager@hotmail.com

A late afternoon in April. It is the hour of long shadows and changing light; the best time to see the hidden glade. A gentle breeze drifts across the farm fields as we make our way towards the woodland.

In comparison to the areas of ancient forest nearby, our local wood is small, only 30 hectares, but still feels big enough to enclose you. I could imagine myself utterly lost here, yet know that ten minutes’ walk towards any compass point will see me safely back to the fields.

The bluebells have blossomed. Amongst them pheasants roost and several times now one has startled and taken flight right beside us in a flap of feathers.

Wood anemones flourish closer to the main pathways, upturned to the sunlight as if they would catch every drop.

From the shadier corners of the woodland’s edge, red campions dazzle.

Never forget to look upwards. I remain fascinated by the silent language of trees, how the canopy allows all to get their share of light. The branches of one tree will strive not to touch those of another. Deciduous trees are companionable, they seem to be working together so that none are crowded out.

To the glade then. Throughout the colder months, the lofty branches shade a shallow mirror pool that reflects the leaves above. When spring comes, and the water drains away, it transforms into a rich glade of tufted grasses and wild flowers. This is my favourite time to visit, as the late afternoon sun shines down like a spotlight.

I concentrate on the birdsong, as the wind ripples through the oak, ash, wild cherry and hazel. I breathe in the greenness, then close my eyes to feel the warmth of the sun on my eyelids; forest bathing in the now-empty pool.

—Keep safe and well everyone. With heartfelt thanks to all those who are working to keep us safe, especially those on the frontline in the NHS and hospitals around the world.—

Visit my Little Art Shop: www.tinypotager.shop

Commission Enquiries: tinypotager@hotmail.com

Tag: wild flowers

Almanac: Storm chasing, lichen and muddy boots

Almanac: Leafy canopies, wild flowers and a woodland glade