March On

Marching.

Snowdrops a'plenty and bright purple and deep mustard coloured crocuses are littered around the Holly Cottage paths. A golden lesser celendine flower is starting to peep up from a country green base. This is the colour we have. Tiny specks that draw the eye in an otherwise green and grey land. Fifty shades of green - and grey ;) 

It's a challenging month. We've been so good - biting our tongues in January and accepting the lingering darkness. Making the most of it with warm turf fires and hearty stewpots. And we didn't shirk at the bracing cold and snow. And February too - we welcomed the sun on St. Bridgid's Day - Imbolc - and we said, "she's just around the corner now". Within a hair's breadth. And we kept the fires burning and we waited for the sentinels of spring - crocus and pluirini sneachta - to lift our spirits. And they did. And they still do too.

But the warm sunny day of the 1st of February must have meant that Cailleach was gathering her firewood for a long winter. And the dry cold that whipped our cheeks last week, and the howling winds of last night that almost wrestled the towering trees that line the estate wall down, stand testament to that. And sure, why not resort to ancient celtic mythology that has been distorted by millennia of mis-interpretation to explain the weather? Even a scientist might sometimes rest back on the couch of imagination and explain things away by the complete mythological. It makes for a better fireside tale than "the empirical data tells us that..."Nerd ;) Oh my life...

Warriors of the cold - respect. 

And so - the long awaited March has arrived. March is on. Accompanied by a dusting of snow just for good measure. And while daffodil buds peep up for a look, still we wait. Will they decide not to come this year? Will they stick their heads back in the cold earth and just say - "nah, let's sit this one out?" But no they won't. We know that. They March, on. Just like us. 

Spring will come. Any day now. It will descend upon us from an apparent nowhere and we will magically emerge from our heavy cloaks of winter and forget that it was ever here. No dwelling on the dark forces that were, and those that are still to come. And that my friends - that, is the real magic. 

Stay strong, stay ready. March, on. 

Spring comes to Holly Cottage (at last!)

Golden Daffodils bending to the April cold

It's happening, it's happening, it's finally happening. What's that you say? Well, it's all happening! After what seems like an eternity in darkness and cold, the light is back and there's even a bit of heat! This afternoon after a morning of sunshine and showers, myself and the Holly dog were sitting out the back admiring the fresh growth of the strawberries - in a t-shirt! No jumpers, no fleeces, no scarves, no hats or no gloves gloves, just a t-shirt. Well, I was in a t-shirt. Herself is still in her thick woolly coat and is starting to resemble a very small amber coloured lamb with long ears and the cutest snout. For a very brief moment I considered retrieving the sandals or the flip flops from their winter storage, but  I thought that might jinx it entirely for the rest of the country so I stuck with the socks and the heavy runners. 

It's less that three weeks now since I last posted on the Holly Cottage blog - remember the snow? Well, we pretty much had two weeks continuous of dry, dry weather - the east wind was coming to us from Russian steppes and everything that once was green had turned a strange shade of unfamiliar yellow. The ground was starting to crack out the garden and every morning the daffodils fought off the grip of frost and managed to straighten their long and graceful necks by midday to greet the golden sun. What extremes? - the wet of January and the dry and cold of February, the damp and wind (and snow) of March and then the dry April chilling winds and hard frosts that kept leaves in their cosy buds and stopped us all from getting brave with sowing salad seeds in open ground. What seeds we had in the sturdy greenhouse were getting frosted even inside those sheltering panes of plastic so all the new members of the Holly Cottage community were brought inside to the comfort of fires at night and kitchen midday sun that boosted their growth. The beans thanked us for it and have bolted out of their holsters and the peas are gracefully starting to tendril. Sunflowers are pushing bent heads up through the compost and cucumbers, sweetcorn, tomatoes and leeks are all doing well now. Sweet basil and marjoram planted in February are only coming to and parsley planted in March is finally thickening up. 

Holly's rooftop garden

The trials of the Irish (amateur) gardener eh? Even the relentless rhibarb seems to be staggering in the April sun. Of course we could have bought a propagator like they have in Cappaduff, but that would take the fun out of it all ;)  And so we are looking forward to planting out in the next week or so, and maybe even an early spud will raise a sleepy head soon to let us know they survived the springtime freeze. 

Back to Friday night and at almost 9pm in midlands Ireland, the light is still illuminating the skeleton forms of the beech trees that line the boundary of Charleville Castle estate across the way. No leaves on the towering beech yet, but they are coming. The first fresh green buds have been spotted on the hawthorn, hazel, birch and elder in the woods for at least a week now - still not in full armour mind. Give them a chance to shake up the goodness from the roots in the warming earth to the nutrient starved leaves laid down since last year in sticky and furry buds. 

No leaves yet but
there's still plenty of sticks :)

We've been enjoying the weather regardless - long, late evening walks late in the woods with the tall oaks and dizzyingly high beeches of Charleville have been entertaining myself and the Holly dog. There are no leaves on high but the woodland floor is carpeted in the bountiful wild garlic - great for adding to the scrambled eggs! 

Holly is on the mend - thankfully. She had a stone the size of a plum seed removed from her bladder last week and is just back to her crazy self. She was only gone for a day and then kind of doped out of it for another day. With all that silence it makes you wonder -what would we do without her?