Rain and Brigid

On a rainy Sunday, I got to thinking about colour. We were walking in some woods--now truly winter-bare--and the rain on the bark of the trees made the colours glow, as rain so often does. You know how as kids when we were drawing trees, the bark was always brown (and the sky always blue)? Not this day. The beeches were silvery grey, the lower parts of the ash trees an astonishingly warm orangey amber (I think this may be due to a particular alga, which is one of those that partners with a fungus to create lichen). The bright green mosses--so happy in the rain--the newly growing wild garlic and the evergreen ferns shone out on the floor of the woods. Back home, the raindrops beaded the branches of the Japanese maples and the silver birches (I have three Betula utilis var. jacquemontii) and the Himalayan cherry (Prunus serrula) were glowing pure white and deep red/mahogany. Gorgeous. 

The Jacquemontii birches were the first trees I planted when I moved to this house. There had been a "hedge" of Lawson's cypress (ghastly) along the front wall which we had pulled out (with a lot of effort) within a few months and a tiny stand of three birches went in instead. On a garden visit a while ago, I overheard a more experienced gardener than me exclaim sniffily  that Jacquemontiis are not great as they carry too much coarse foliage and get to be top heavy. I came home, looked at mine with a more critical eye and I saw what he meant. Compared to, say, the Young's Weeping Birch, the Jacquemontii is a little (whisper it) vulgar. There are other varieties available now that marry a more delicate top with the beautiful bark, but 15 years ago when I planted mine, I was delighted with them. I still enjoy them as they light up with the low winter sun. And yes, I have been known to get out there with a brush and warm soapy water to clean off the gathering algae so the white shows all the better... There's always an element of artifice in gardening, you know. By the way, one of those less common but very beautiful birches is the Chinese Red Birch (Betula albosinensis var. septentrionalis).

But the main important event last week was the first day of Spring! (Thanks for the Luka Bloom song BK). Never mind the meteorologists who tell us that the meteorological spring starts on the equinox on 21 March - here in Ireland it's 1 February, St Brigid's Day.

And to celebrate, here are signs of Spring from my garden.There's an early tulip that I really didn't expect, still coming through in a pot I planted with bulbs a few autumns ago. This year's pots are on the way and will no doubt feature here anon.

One of the small daffs in the front garden will open soon, and of course the Japanese quince (a garden-warming gift from dear Da 16 years ago) has been gracing a wall with its startling red flowers for some time now.

Finally, some unfurling rhubarb: Spring isn't just about flowers. New growth can delight too, just for its own sake, but this is delightful for other reasons. I love its appearance: who'd guess that those intricate folds wrestling out of fat pink buds will turn into such a large leaf? And with such tasty stems. Let's pause this week and silently thank whomever it was who first did such a daft thing as eat the pink stems of an ungainly plant.

Oh! And belated happy name day to the two lovely Brigids I know.