Equinox & an introduction
If you have a garden, you will know that each patch of ground is unique. The textbooks will tell you you should find out what your soil pH is; whether it is loam or clay, aspect, shade, sun, drainage. It's not really like that here. We're a team, and I accept that my field knows best. I know that she likes pink (irritatingly, because I don't), she is a grafter, she is forgiving, she produces nettles better than any other field around, which is fine because it means fertility and copious amounts of nettle tea and I'll never get arthritis.
The equinox is the one time of the season that we are out of step. The magic of the equal days and nights gives her a little boost and there is a spring like rush of growth. I'm winding down and she's raging against the dying of the light. Funny things happen at this time. I have an iris that has sent up a flower spike. The orchard is covered in baby frogs. There's a sprinkling of blossom on one of the apple trees. I can't keep up with the deadheading.
I know we'll right ourselves soon. I'm clearing beds for the autumn sowing of hardy annuals and we'll have the usual battle of why self sown nigella always comes up weeks and weeks before the ones I put in.