In the dark of Winter I dream of this time of year. I imagine the garden awakening and coming to
life. But these are long dull days that
stretch on and time passes slowly. Then light
begins to come back and warmth with it. Before
you know it the clocks have sprung forward and Spring begins to slowly take
hold.
Then, around this time of year and with the sap rising, everything in
the garden begins a growth spurt. As I
return home from work each evening and tour the garden I see that it has
changed. Plants seem twice the size, full
of succulent buds and unfurling leaf.
It is at this precise moment that I want to reach out for an
imaginary remote control. To pause the
moment. To stop and enjoy it before it
escapes. I know that from here on in the
garden will continue to accelerate, speed up, become a blur of growth and frenzy of foliage and colour. And
before you know it the delicious anticipation is gone all too soon.
I promise myself each and every year that I will stop, take
stock, reflect and enjoy these days. But
my curse is that each weekend when I get to really spend time in the garden
doing the very things I love and live for, I am a flurry of activity and haste.
I must stop this. I
must press that pause button. I must go
into slow motion mode and enjoy these days.
They are, after all, what I have dreamed of for months and they are here
now to savour.
