Today it isn’t raining and the wind doesn’t buffer the bird feeders on the crab apple tree. Today I have sown seeds in the wet soil and in pots of compost on the window ledge. And I have planted hardy hopes and autumn fruiting optimism in anticipation of bowls of greens and pots of jewelled reds and purples.
Last year was devastating. Seeds rotted and plants bolted. Nothing flourished. I despised having no choice but to dig deeper and deeper and feared it had all been for nothing.
There must have been growth all along though because this year strong green shoots emerge, persistent despite the nipping frosts.
There’s not much more for me to do now the compost is spread over the ground and the watering can is filled and left by the outside tap. I’ll put on my boots and head out across the fields where the buds push open in the hedges and the deer rest in pairs if you are still enough not to disturb them.