Springtime resolutions

Now is the time when the soot black twigs of London

and the polished brown ones of the country,

burst out, page-like, into rows of neat green buttons,

which later on become little plumes

or tufts of crinkled leaves;...

Now in fact, is the real New Year,

when all good resolutions ought to be made...

now,when the blood is rising like sap;

when irrational joy, the only safe kind,

threatens to burst your respectable waistcoat buttons;

when your feet, however prosaic your boots may look to others,

are wing-shod and scarcely touch the pavement...

The resolutions which you make in this mood are certain to be good ones,

and stand a very good chance of remaining unbroken.

They will be bold and strong, positive and constructive and adventurous.

From now on, you say, I am going to be as brave as a lion,

as firm as a rock, as kind as a dove, as active as an ant, as truthful as glass;

I will write a poem, paint a picture, compose a symphony, found a business, 

plant a tree, build a summerhouse, and repaper the dining room...

(These springtime resolutions) will provide some sort of answer

to the eternal question:

"What can one do about the spring?"

For something must be done, and soon,

or one will undoubtedly burst.*

See also here for Alicia's take on spring fever.

*Try Anything Twice - Jan Struther

Magnolia days

There was once very little choice in paint colours.

I remember Brilliant White being heralded as a breakthrough,

previous whites tending towards the yellow.

You could also have Primrose yellow

and a peachy pink, eau de nil and a rather chilly blue,

but magnolia won hands down in the popularity stakes,

despite not resembling any magnolia I have ever seen.

A quick check around tells me pale grey is the new white,

(Elephant's Breath by Farrow and Ball if you're feeling flush). 

What fun it must be - choosing the names.

The greyest of days

The monotony relieved by

Andreas Gursky at the newly refurbished Hayward Gallery.

It has taken two years and the 66 restored pyramidal roof lights,

letting in 'God's daylight' as decreed by Henry Moore 

 make a big difference to the atmosphere on the upper floor.

I don't think they did anything to improve the loos though.

Sunday mornings go for a ride

They got the tower out of its wraps just in time for my birthday.

It was worth the climb up to the top

to examine the new oak shingles,

although French not English oak, according to the rather

dispeptic guide at the bottom.

Apparently the newly restored flagpole 

is planted over the clock mechanism

which is why it is forever 7 o'clock at Sissinghurst.

The raised troughs are exquisitely replanted.

My vote for best arrangement in a shell at the Spring Show went to this.

Although deluges have resumed we had a reminder

of what spring could deliver in the woods

on a perfect day at the weekend.

I found a tin of tomato seeds. 

Is it too late?

It's hard to work up any enthusiasm for potting compost and seed trays.

Yours sincerely, wasting away. 

Weeding

 I grasped a small three-pronged toasting fork

(for I have as yet no batterie de jardin)

planted one foot firmly on the lawn

and another gingerly in the middle of the bed,

bent down, and began to weed.

Four hours later I stopped, not from choice

but because Mrs Shoesmith wanted the toasting fork for luncheon.

As in many other affairs,

it is all a question of attitude.

I had not been weeding for five minutes, 

bent double like a pair of compasses with my head a foot from the ground,

before I became aware that my whole outlook on life was changing.

The mental and spiritual accidie which had been enveloping me

for nearly a year dropped off me like a cloak.

Problems which had seemed insoluble

laid their solutions ready-made at my feet with a neat flourish.

Situations which had seemed as unmanageable as rogue mules

crept up on their bellies and fawned.

Short stories whose characters had turned to wood,

essays which had refused to come to a point,

poems in which laboured craftsmanship had numbed and weakened

the original impact of beauty -

all these presented themselves to my inverted brain

in their finished form, masterly, unsmutched and point-device.

So uprooting grass and groundsel on my way,

I moved happily though inelegantly along;

and at every step the advantages of gardening 

became more and more clear to me.*

* Upside Down Reflections from a book of essays Try Anything Twice

Jan Struther, author of Mrs Miniver