Waiting for the daffodils and tulips to bloom

One of my projects in the garden last autumn almost never happened.  I had bought about 70 bulbs of various narcissi, alliums and tulips to spread around the garden in little groups, and then some larger groups in what I call my 'spring garden' under the hazel tree.  Just as it was time to plant the bulbs last October and November, I developed a cough and struggled to bend over long enough to plant the piles of bulbs.  After several wheezy attempts we finally got them all planted towards the end of October.  All of this long winded wittering is to build up the sense of expectation I had by the time spring came.  Would the daffodils even flower?  Would the slugs and insects eat all of the tulip leaves? Had I planted them incorrectly?  Day by day I have wandered into the garden checking progress, and hoping that my act of faith in the autumn would come to fruition.

So I hope you will forgive my utter pride in my new 'spring garden' and wont mind me sharing some pictures of how its getting on so far...

Tulipa sylvestris or Woodland Tulip

Signs of a spring to come

Although I wouldn't go as far to say that spring is in the air, today feels as if it is at least possible.  We spent the morning in the lovely market town of Romsey, enjoying the sunshine, and exploring the charity shops.  We found a really interesting pen and ink drawing which we think must be 1930s or thereabouts.

A trip to the gardening centre on the way home got us thinking about planning changes to the garden.  We bought a holly bush to add much needed structure and greenery, a red currant bush and raspberry canes.  Mr C also got some shallots to add to his veg patch.   I also bought a lovely bunch of tulips to brighten up Hazel Cottage

Looking around the  garden at this time of year fills me with hope that spring will come - the green shoots of the bulbs are poking through the dead leaves, it wont be long until the daffodils arrive and the garden comes back to life again.

The foolish man seeks happiness in the distance,

the wise grows it under his feet

James Oppenheim