26 April 2004

English spring proves unexpectedly balmy

Everyone is swearing that we've skipped April and jumped right into May. It was warm enough today to work in my shirtsleeves, and the sun was bright enough to blind me without my sunglasses. This weather two days in a row seems to make the Brits think it will become a trend.

The downtown was literally buzzing with people, all walking around in sandals and short-sleeved tops. At one point when I passed the produce shop I thought everyone was humming, but it must have been the baby stroller wheels softly squeaking as the woman pushing it tried to force me off of the sidewalk. Some things never change even when everyone is so giddy about spring.

The homeless guy who sells The Big Issue magazine in front of the co-op was barely recognizable without his winter sock cap. I never realized that he had salt-and-pepper hair. His dog, Gizmo, a Jack Russell puppy, was extra excited to see me, which I also chalked up to spring.

I noticed a little poster taped onto some shop windows advertising this upcoming weekend as the "lambing" days. Several farms open up their property for tours, and there are hundreds of lambs to pet and chase around. Sometimes you can see them being born. The daffodils and tulips are especially gorgeous right now, and these farms tend to have great flower displays as well.

Our landlord has just returned from Florida so he was quite excited that the weather was "Florida-like." He asked if I wanted him to come over and mow our postage stamp lawn. I just laughed. "You would deny my darling husband the right to use his French push mower on such a nice afternoon?" I joked.

When Jay returned from his morning of mucking out French's stable he grabbed the little yellow beauty of a lawn mower and dutifully pushed it through the thick grass. Five, maybe six passes did the job. Nothing smells as good as fresh-cut grass. Not five minutes later I heard the next-door neighbor start her mower, and then I heard the landlord start his up, too. Lawn mowing must be contagious.

At lunchtime we braved the sunshine and walked up to The George, our local pub and ordered lunch. We sat outside at a picnic table and listened to big band music as we ate chicken tika and fisherman's pie with chips (French fries).

I tried to hurry through my afternoon of writing job applications so that I could finally get out in the garden. At 3 p.m., I couldn't stand it any longer.

After unlocking the garage and dragging out all of the giant pots, I knew that I would be working on this project until after dark. I was delirious with the prospect.

For the next few hours I repotted window boxes, transplanted the succulents I'd wintered in the garage, and dug in hundreds of tiny plants I started from seed. In between, the neighbors stopped by for a chat, making the job take three times as long.

First Katrina walked down to sweep our shared driveway. I think her sudden concern for the cleanliness of the driveway was an excuse to see what I was doing. Then Sabrina came by to check on Harriet and Cat. They were playing dolls on the lawn next to where I was working.

Just as I was about to give in to my tiredness, Jay popped around the garden wall to ask if I wanted a cup of tea. We sat down on the little wicker couch in the garden to drink our tea, and surveyed my handy work.

The garden isn't really taking shape yet. I'm holding back. I don't want to mourn this garden like I did the one I left in France last year. As we drank our tea together I announced I had planted some tiny plants in the ground along where the wall had fallen down in the February gale. This is my feeble attempt (or an act of faith) to believe that I will be here the entire summer.

I'll keep you posted.