Monday 9 May

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Full moon. The flower moon. The lunaria, so named because the seed heads resemble the moon, glows in the moonlight. I do so prefer the white to the purple and I am lucky that it self-seeds gently under the hedges. Lucky in that I am notoriously bad at sowing biennials. I always have so many other things to be doing in the summer. Sitting in the hammock for one.

Tuesday 10 May

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The world has changed colour. Spring comes late in this part of the world. Not because of the weather but because it is beech country. There are hedges of it wherever you look. Where they grow up through the banks along drovers’ lanes, the ancient trees touch at the top like a cathedral nave. Roads cut through tunnels of trunks and branches. Beech holds last year's leaves for longer than you expect and so the landscape stays autumnal well into May. And today it turned. The new shoots burst through, seemingly all at once. Suddenly, as far as the eye can see is fresh, pristine, verdant. I trim the most enthusiastic tips off the hedge.

Wednesday 11 May

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There are days when you can almost hear the field growing. It is so rapid and so strong and so gloriously enthusiastic that I feel like I blink and plants have grown. I check the field first thing in the morning and again after the dog walk in the evening. In the intervening hours, the opium poppies put on more inches, and more irises have unfurled the most intricate petals from their unassuming buds. (Tip. Deadheading works for irises even after you have cut them and brought them inside. Just carefully snap off the spent flowers at the base.)

Thursday 12 May

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I feel like I have been waiting for the peonies forever. They budded up weeks ago. The ones inconveniently placed in the middle of what is now the vegetable patch have been there for quite a few years now and they are just reaching their happy peak. Every time I pass them, I squeeze the ant-covered buds, willing them to reach the marshmallow stage but they have remained resolutely bullet like. Today, my patience is rewarded, and the first ‘Coral Charm’ explodes into fluffy glory. A little more waiting is required though; its first flush is eye-poppingly pink. By a few days old, it will be heart-breakingly beautiful, like a warm-toned parchment.

Friday 13 May

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A day in the kitchen garden. The asparagus has been wonderful this year, better than it has been for a while. Proof, if any was ever needed, of the power of a decent top dressing of excellent compost.

Saturday 14 May

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A weekend away by the seaside. A note for next year: everything is growing too fast at this time of year to feel entirely relaxed about taking time away, but we make the most…

GATHER · Growing happiness

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