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WRITERS EYES / ASCRIBER Uniting Writers Around The World Online Writing Group
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THE WEEKY CLARION
Garden Notes by Carmel Reynolds
1 March
As it's tidying up time in the garden, with the promise of a bonfire (which
I always look forward to), I thought it would be a good idea to include some
old clothes which aren't good enough for the charity shop. Why do we hang
on to things?! After a good old rummage round, I've managed to clear out
some old items from the wardrobe.
The rest of the day was spent sweeping up leaves, and clearing out the general garden rubbish which had blown about in the wind the other day. There were plenty of twigs from the orchard to burn. Most of the time I was followed by a robin which peered at me in the hope that I would produce some food. 'Later my friend' I told him, 'you'll get some'. Another one came in similar hope. This seemed unusual because, as you probably already know, they are territorial and can be very aggressive to each other. Two or three blue tits and a solitary great tit were jumping from branch to branch pecking away at what seemed to me to be invisible insects. Years ago, I thought they were eating the buds, but on closer inspection found they were untouched. I didn't want to tidy up too much under the hedge as it is quite likely there will be a hedgehog or two still hibernating. Leaving dead leaves and organic litter in sheltered corners is also helpful for insect life which can flourish and is a favourite haunt for such as dunnocks which feed on the insects.
On the grass in the orchard, near the hawthorn hedge, I noticed a little wren bobbing backwards and forwards. Perhaps he was looking for a bit of left-over fruit that had fallen, but the windfalls of apples and pears had been collected in the autumn, the best bits being kept for pies and home-made wine. There's nothing like a bit of one's home-made on a winter evening by the fire. I must put something out for him this evening, I thought. He's so tiny he needs building up when there's still a chance of a frosty night. There may not be enough insects for him - and he's not likely to be on his own. Wrens, like other birds, sometimes roost in vacant bird boxes, and huddle up together for warmth. As I collected the general unwanted garden rubbish I noticed the celandines smiling from the shadows. For me these are the harbingers of spring and are so welcome after the grey days of winter.
Fortunately, though, the sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the air still had a bit of a chill - perfect. The daffodils under the trees glowed in the sunlight. I thought I'd have another dig in the potato patch before the seed potatoes went in. It's not far off Good Friday which is the traditional day for planting them. As I worked the blackbirds followed me, looking for any pickings that I might turn up. The female blackbirds are the tamest and I chatted to them as I dug. A worm or two appeared, and so did the song thrush which must have been waiting in one of the trees in hope. That's one satisfied customer, I thought! I'm glad he wasn't disappointed. There aren't so many of them nowadays and the more help we can give them the better. The tulips at the edge of the flower garden were showing their leaves, and the ones which had full sun were almost out. The warm weather a couple of weeks ago brought them on early, and they seem to have survived the hard frosts we've had since then. I never remember exactly where I've planted my bulbs so they are all a lovely surprise as they emerge. It's amazing how many plants are stirring now, but a walk round reminded me how much there was to come in the long-awaited-for summer. The roses had been partially pruned in the autumn so I was now able to finish that job and add the cuttings to the bonfire. I prefer the old-fashioned roses, although they need more work than the modern hybrids. The Queen Elizabeth rose is getting very tall now, so I gave it a good 'hair cut'. Her Majesty should be pleased and hopefully honour me with a bouquet in a few months!
After my well-earned rest and cuppa, I made up the bonfire and set it alight. The smoke rose gently at first up to the now orange, turquoise and blue sky of the early evening. The smell of the smoke evoked memories of my standing here as a child watching my father do exactly the same thing. It's funny how smells are more evocative than any other sense. My father, wisely, wouldn't let me very near the fire as bits would occasionally shoot out unexpectedly and land at my feet.
As I mused, I heard the crackling of dry twigs which were a satisfying reminder that a good day's work had been done. I poked the fire with my garden fork, and it burned well. After standing contemplating it for a while, watching the ash forming, and the various bits dropping down in turn, I wandered round the orchard and garden looking for anything I might have missed. Oops, there was an old boot of my brother Fred's which I must have dropped earlier. I picked it up and started towards the fire when I heard a frantic fluttering near my hand which made me jump. Suddenly a little brown feathered friend shot out of the boot and onto the ground. It was the wren. Poor little thing. It must have been quite a shock. What was he doing in the boot, I wondered? Was he looking for crumbs? But of course, no wonder he is called Troglodytes troglodytes!
Opening: 8
Character(s): 9
Dialogue: 5
Setting: 10
Plot: N/A
Suspense:
Ending: 9
Enjoyment: 10
Carmel, a most informative read and well worth the writing. I can picture you there in your wellies surrounded by your bird-filled garden. You give us sights, smells, tastes, touch and sounds. Full of love for your garden.
Dorothy