I love singing, but never managed to make a place in a choir. So perhaps that’s why I can relate to the little bird that I can hear singing this morning. He tries so hard, bless him, singing his little tune. It’s quite a dull, monotonous sound, but he remains undaunted & continues to work his way through the repetitive piece. I wonder if that’s what makes him shy, staying hidden from view, embarrassed to sit boldly close by as a robin might?

I first heard a chiff chaff sing many years ago while we were staying at a Cornish woodland estate. This little bird sang it’s heart out. To me it sounded like a bird that was learning to sing, one that hadn’t quite got it right. I had no idea what it was, so I simply called it my trainee bird! Now every spring I like to listen out for my “trainee bird”. He never disappoints, each spring he arrives & is somewhere nearby – singing in his slow, plodding manner. If there was a prize for effort & enthusiasm we would both be prize winners, but somehow I can’t see either of us being awarded the starring role as soloist!

The bumble bees & I have something in common – we love the bell shaped flowers in my garden! Well I guess they are bumble bees – they are huge & best observed through my kitchen window! I’ve never stopped to look closer at the bees to identify them, perhaps I should.

The flower clusters on both the berberis & pieris shrubs are a magnet for bees. The buzzing in the garden is intense as the bees enjoy the blooms, hoovering, waiting to take their place among the choice flowers. I love to watch these huge bees clamour over my flowers. They seem oversized against the delicate flowers they are drawn to.The bees hang from the flowers, weighing them down, yet they do not cause the flower to fall. Then like a finely tuned balancing act they move along the line, checking each one in turn. Just as the flower bells are ready to fall, the bees will make one last attempt to drink in the beauty of these flowers. And as the flowers drop  they create a carpet of colour beneath the shrubs. The large berberis is the most dramatic, with an orange glow steadily forming around the base of the shrub. On a dull day it illuminates this shady nook. A joy that is guaranteed to lift the spirits!

The Sunday sound of lawn mowers echoes round. The droning sound, almost a moaning, reluctance – like many of the garden owners tackling mowing, the first cut of the year. The smell of fresh cut grass. What memories that brings! Suddenly it mingles with the strong smell of petrol that spoils the moment.

I remember my Grandfather mowing the lawn at my childhood home, with a Qualcast manual mower. The gentle rhythmic sound, almost hypnotic, as the blades cut through the grass. Up & down the garden in neat orderly lines creating a pattern of stripes & the cut grass flying through the air into the grass box. He would lift & tip this into an ever growing a mound at the top of the garden, to distribute around the base of the rose trees as a feed, once the mowings had died down. The lawn edges were always neatly manicured, cut methodically with shears in gentle snips. And finally the roller would be carefully manoeuvred onto the lawn creating a professional look.

What a contrast to the way we garden today – whizzing mowers around at speed, with noise that obliterates bird song. Strimmers that buzz frantically, sending grass flying, scattered across paths & borders. I can still hear the gentle scrap of an old knife against the blades of my Grandfather’s mower as he cleaned it, ready to be stored away in preparation for the next cut. Life seemed so much more leisurely then. Time to appreciate our gardens, to see the detail, even if that was a rogue daisy in the green sward!

The calendar says it’s mid April, but it’s cold and wet & I’m freezing! Wrapped up snugly in my winter’s fleece I set out in the car. It’s a welcome illusion that it’s now warmer. The car heater’s on & there’s a break in the showers even the sunis out! We speed past lush green fields & a few roadside daffodils that brighten up my day. Sitting in a traffic queue & gazing out the window I’m being watched! A sheep stares across at me, chewing. It reminds me of someone chewing gum… Lambs chase across the field, the cold doesn’t seem to bother them. Today is not a day to be shedding their winter fleece. Like me I think they still need to be cosied up. The lambs aren’t tiny, they’re busy tasting leaves that grow just outside their boundary. Eager to explore, looking for adventure. I don’t like to think about what the future might hold for them, but think how wise they are to enjoy life, live in the moment.