Polly Pullar finds joy in the unfurling of the new season.
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SPRING will always be my favourite time of year. Nothing can equal the intoxicating sound of the dawn chorus, and as its crescendo starts to build, I get up earlier and earlier so that I can go outside to absorb it.
Many of us hear this collective orchestration but don’t take time to recognise the different voices that come together to make such a heavenly sound.
As the days begin to lighten, and the temperature rises, the first singer is usually a song thrush.
I often hear its sweet, repeated arias coming from a tall western hemlock tree at the bottom of our drive.
Sometimes I hear it in February if the day is balmy and mild.
Early in the season, the singers are easier to identify, as the migrants from sunnier climes have yet to arrive.
As they do, usually in early April, new voices join in every day.
The chiffchaff – a small member of the warbler family – arrives the earliest, then there may be blackcaps, though a few now overwinter in this country.
Later, the delightful willow warbler appears, and by May here on our farm we are lucky enough to hear the cuckoo.
Like our much-loved swallows and martins, all these little birds have usually over-wintered on the African continent.
When our springs are bitterly cold and wet, I wonder why they still come!
The reason for their extraordinary long and arduous journey is purely down to the availability of food, which enables them to rear their broods.
Increasingly, a massive decline in invertebrates everywhere due to climate change, chemical pesticides and industrial-scale farming means they are in decline, too.
This is just one of many reasons why we must strive to make our gardens as wildlife-friendly as we possibly can.
Together, every small action can make a huge difference.
One of the many reasons I adore spring is due to the discoveries of new life unfolding.
The continuous web of life reveals treasure everywhere if you only take time to look.
Even flowers and leaves that may seem commonplace and are all around us transform into incredible works of art when we stop to study them up close.
Often, I take a close-up image of a flower where there is a beautiful insect perched on the petals.
It’s not until I put that image on to my computer that I might see another tiny creature hidden within the flower, too.
Perhaps I might find a minute, glistening dewdrop, a brown area where the frost has nipped the fragile petal, or a scalloped edge where the plant has been nibbled by something.
Some insects are hard to identify, and that will lead to an intriguing search through my books.
Or maybe I will have an e-mail conversation with one of my entomologist friends whose knowledge is encyclopaedic.
All this provides endless fascination and makes you realise just how little you know.
I am lucky to be able to wander among the nature that is around me here on our small farm, but urban green spaces, parks and city gardens are beautiful places of nature, too.
They are places to find solace and calm, and it is that peace that we all need now more than ever.
I hope that this spring brings you respite from the worries that have engulfed us all.
Whatever your circumstances, remember that we, too, are an integral part of nature. ■
Backlit in the early morning sun, this lovely spider’s web on an ancient hawthorn bush has a patch to the left that resembles dropped stitches in knitting. Perhaps a large fly or moth was caught and managed to escape, but damaged the web in its struggle.
Every day we walk through and over the grasses in our gardens and barely notice their existence at all. But look how beautiful raindrops are when they adorn and shimmer in the early light. Absorbing ourselves in this microscopic world can help to keep us calm.
Wood mice have short lives, but they live them at a fast pace, scurrying back and forth searching for food. Winter is hard for them and provides many challenges. This one was so busy consuming plant material on the garden wall that it let me approach very close.
Wandering among a sea of bluebells on the steep hill behind the house, I stumbled upon this white bluebell. It’s a genetic mutation, but the ratio of wild white bluebells to blue ones is only around 1:10,000. These wildflowers should not be confused with the common Spanish commercially grown white versions!
Wild bluebells have heads that droop like this one, whereas the flowers of the Spanish variety are far more upright. I loved finding this perfect dandelion clock in amongst the swathes of violet-blue.
For me, the cock blackbird will always be my favourite avian singer. Though many rate the exceedingly rare nightingale as having the most melodic voice, the song of the blackbird is indescribably beautiful – and what a gorgeous bird, too, in his dapper glossy black plumage.
There’s a clump of late-flowering narcissus on the bank close to the path near our farm buildings. The lovely flowers appear long after the main crop of daffodils is over. They are all members of the same genus and are part of the amaryllis family. Such bright, cheery faces, and with a brilliant blue sky behind they cannot fail to bring cheer to the day.
All the members of the cherry family produce fabulous blossom, but did you know that this blossom symbolises renewal? However, compared to other varieties of trees, the cherry is short-lived. Most flowering cherries are ornamental – the result of hybridisation. They are produced for their beauty rather than their fruit. The petals are edible and, in some parts of the world, are used to flavour numerous things, including ice-cream.
Last year the apple blossom was abundant, but we also had a very hard late frost that spoiled much of it, leaving the gorgeous fragile flowers looking like soggy brown tissue paper. We were surprised when we still got quite a good crop of apples.
The primrose is a delightful flower that graces our woods and covers entire banks with its lovely buttery yellow. Nicknamed “spinkie” and “Mayflower” – the latter is also used for hawthorn blossom – the primrose came a close second to the bluebell as Britain’s favourite flower. Our forebears regularly used both the leaves and flowers to treat various ailments and supplement a meagre diet. Primroses flower early in the season, and copious bunches were once picked and used to decorate churches.
One of the many reasons I adore spring is due to the discoveries of new life unfolding. The continuous web of life reveals treasure everywhere
You’d be forgiven for thinking these weirdly beautiful things are fungi. They are actually mare’s tails (also called horsetails). In early spring, as they emerge through boggy ground, they resemble toadstools.
Mare’s tail grows on damp, acidic soil and is poisonous to herbivores, though not humans. If it gets into your garden it will stage a takeover bid!