Finally, a day of spring. Yesterday the air still had a raw nip to it, despite the sunshine, and tomorrow it is forecast to blow half a gale, then rain for the rest of the week. Still, today it felt like spring. The sun shone, the air was gentle, I had to remove my fleece, and even at one stage the paint stained sailing smock that forms the intermediate wind proof layer over my assorted shirts. I found I needed my Tilly hat to keep the sun off my face. I was warm. There were bees working the flowers, and one butterfly. The Systems Administrator sat in a deckchair by the porch before lunch, and the short indignant tabby went outside and rolled around on the gravel.
I pruned the buddleias, better late than never. If they die or fail to flower this year I'll let you know, but I expect they'll be fine. The woodier stems will be shredded to make mulch, and the greener stems were snipped into shortish pieces and have gone on the compost heap. I sawed out a few dead, dry branches where the bushes hadn't responded as well as buddleia is supposed to to heavy pruning, and added them to our stock of kindling.
I cleared away the remaining heaps of brambles, dead rose stems and excessively twiggy hedge cuttings to the bonfire heap. If the weather is going to finally get to the point where we might actually use the garden, as distinct from my trying to work on it, then it might as well not look too much like a work in progress with piles of debris littered about. The Systems Administrator inspected the lawn, but pronounced it still too soggy. It would be nice to get that cut.
Then I returned to weeding, feeding and Strulching. Warmer weather will bring the perennials along, and it is a race against time now to get as much Strulch on to the beds as possible before I find myself smashing another emerging shoot with every movement. I am deeply suspicious about how much Coronilla varia remains in the island bed. It is not even a new nuisance plant, I now know. I was re-reading one of Gertrude Jekyll's books the other day, and suddenly noticed her almost throwaway warning that some alpine nurseries had started selling it, and it looked very pretty but was far too invasive for use in a conventional border.