Blossoms and dewdrops at the bent spray's edge

Hark, where my blossom'd pear tree in the hedge
Leans to the fields and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops at the bent spray's edge

Robert Browning wrote nostalgically in his Home thoughts from abroad about the month of May.
I was reminded of the poem when, after a particularly windy morning, the large, elderly pear tree
opposite the kitchen window had 'snowed' all along the path leading to Pablo's Garden.

It was a magical sight on a sunny May morning.

Calling all angels

Every blade of grass has its Angel

That bends over it and whispers ‘Grow, grow’  

                                          The Talmud

Step inside the crocus

The lawn has had its first cut of the year and already begins to take pride in its appearance, despite still needing to have its edges trimmed and sharpened.

There is such a lot of tidying of the borders needing desperately to be done. Already the first garden bin is full to over-flowing. My back aches just thinking about it.

Narcissi

 Friend Elaine has delivered a margarine carton full of frog spawn and the blue tits have discovered the nesting box nearest the kitchen window.

The intermingled smells from the flowering daphne and winter honeysuckle combine naturally to rival the best that Jo Malone could ever produce – and all for free.

It is such a glorious time of the year - full of so much promise.

The days are lengthening and the catkins are alive to the sound of early birdsong as I know to my cost, being woken to the sound of them leaping from wardrobe to wardrobe before 6 a.m. each morning!

When in these fresh mornings I go into my garden before anyone is awake, I go for the time being into perfect  happiness. In this hour divinely fresh and still, the fair face of every flower salutes me with silent joy that fills me with infinite content, each gives me its colour, its grace, its perfume and enriches me with the consummation of its beauty.

                          Celia Thaxter An Island Garden 1894 

The glory of neighbour Robert's Van Gogh-like tree full of blossom

 

And after April ...

When May follows

And the white-throat sings and all the swallows,

Hark, where my blossomed pear tree in the hedge

Leans to the fields and scatters on the clover

Blossoms and dewdrops at the bent sprays edge …

Flowering cherry

 April traditionally is associated with blossom and this April didn’t disappoint until the weather turned against us, destroying the blossom on many prunus (flowering cherries) trees before we had time and opportunity to fully appreciate their breathe-taking beauty. Fortunately the apple blossom hasn’t been affected and I’m hopeful for a good harvest later in the year.

Early apple blossom

Similarly with pear tree blossom. We have two extremely large and ancient pear trees – they are possibly as old as the house itself which was built in 1911. The tree nearest the house bears the most wonderful, juicy pears which, when we first moved here in 1979, we gathered by standing on a neighbour’s flat-roofed garage and which we transformed into wonderful jams, chutneys and, to my mother-in-law Rouena’s delight, a very intoxicating pear wine, which when left to mature in the under-stairs cupboard until the cupboard was spring cleaned the following year, almost took on the status of a fine spirit. Sadly for us, the tree is now so large that only the starlings and crows benefit from the mouth-watering fruit.

Old pear tree with delicious fruit, sadly enjoyed only by the birds!

The second tree bears a small, hard fruit in large quantities. Again the tree is too large to enable us to harvest the fruit but, happily, most of the pears are blown onto the lawn by the autumn strong winds and are easily harvested as wind-fall fruit. Thus they don’t keep for long but even so are delicious eaten au naturelle;  stewed in the microwave and eaten with Greek yoghurt; or made into pear pickle or chutney - delicious when eaten with cheese and celery for a quick and tasty supper.

Roll on autumn - my mouth is watering already…