Signs of spring

To my deep satisfaction, the woman who's been cutting my hair for nearly thirty years, after apparently deciding that she can't get away from me no matter how far she moves, has now come back home to the Shire. So my trip to her salon this morning involved a drive to the Farncombe Estate in Willersey rather than to Chipping Norton, which left me enough time for coffee and cake in Broadway with R.

Back at home I walked around the garden, partly to look for a subject, and partly to check for plants that failed to survive the Big Freeze, and will need to be replaced in the spring. Sadly, the deaths include a beautiful blue hebe, a myrtle and a clematis; and while the jury's currently out on the ceanothus and Daphne aureomarginata that provide nectar for so many spring insects, I'm fairly sure that a couple of cotoneasters have bitten the dust as well. Trying to look on the bright side, this will give me an opportunity to improve my wildlife-friendly plant stock, but I can't say I'm looking forward to the work it will entail - or the associated expense.

Signs of spring are beginning to appear now: the first snowdrops are out, the pink cherry plum is budding, and the flowers are opening on a couple of my hellebores. This is one of the hybrids, and while I don't like these as much as the smaller Helleborus orientalis varieties which wander at will around the garden, I have to admit that they're impressively large and vigorous plants. On a day when I've been counting losses, there's definitely something to be said for that.