It’s amazing to think the month of March will be upon us on Tuesday and, like a hapless giraffe who’d ordered the incorrect takeaway pizza, we’ll stand one sixth of the way through 2022’s watch. As the cliché goes ‘Time flies’……. Well, apart from Bank Holidays when the French air traffic controllers are normally on strike.
Footnote – Yes, I know the giraffe analogy makes absolutely no sense, but hey, if you’ve read my prose previously you’ll know it joins an absurdity rap sheet of some magnitude. Consequently such hooey’ll be no doubt be like water off a ducks back for regular readers…. Or maybe water off a hapless giraffe who’s ordered an incorrect takeaway pizza’s back.
Ah March….. A time of regeneration; the spring warm up act whetting our appetite for summer’s glorious accession. A month which brings to the seasonal table ascending temperatures, the lawn’s emergence from dormancy and kaleidoscopic splendour bequest by freshly sprouted bulbs.
This month will witness commencement of productive ventures dans le jardin de Strachan. Shortly I’ll be able to cut back remnants of last years sedum plants and feed newly flowering primulas. Additionally, I’ll no doubt embark on a one sided conversation about my horticultural aspirations for 2022 with a potted rhododendron.
In addition to tending plants, my itinerary includes affording my grass some much needed TLC. To clarify, I’m not alluding to the type of Californian grass which The Beatles candidly claimed was the reason Jo Jo left his Tuscon home. I’m, of course, refer to the emerald blades forming my back lawn.
Currently, my eye is being drawn to a solitary blue clothes peg residing on the aforementioned lawn. Yours truly evidently dropping this garb fastener on my turf when last retrieving laundry outdoors….. GJ Strachan the clumsiest of launderers; not only capable of mislaying the odd sock, but bizarrely also capable of losing trouser pockets and shirt collars in his wash load.
Footnote – As it adds nothing to the tale, I’m unsure why I mentioned the peg was blue of colour. After all, if it had been red I wouldn’t feel any lesser urge to shift the item following manifestation of my OCD episode. An event making my fingers twitch upon witnessing yours truly’s turf aesthetics being ‘defiled’ by this plastic fastener……. Get back, Jo Jo!
Despite all this talk of March’s increasing temperatures, renewal and regeneration, I’m moved to reveal it doesn’t feel any warmer today, A meteorological impression perfectly highlighted when witnessing a solitary flowering daffodil in front garden border – Its’ leaves wrapped around the stem as if huddling against the cold.
In hindsight the daff will no doubt wish it’d followed his bulb brood’s lead of not blooming too early. It has a strong constitution, though, and I’ve no doubt it’ll come through the experience as a better, stronger bulb.
It’s now shortly before midday on the final Saturday of March 2022; I’m sitting in the lounge of my East Ardsley abode, pondering whether to put the heating on as I’m on the chilly side.
For the record, I loathe calling upon my central heating system (CHS) between March and October. Yours truly stubbornly opining spring, summer and early autumn should provide warm enough temperatures to afford Strachan’s CHS a well-earned post-winter break……
Consequently, I ordinarily refuse to fire up the gas boiler unless I spot a polar bear or penguin strolling along around our cup-de-sac.
Come on Zeus and Hera, give us a break!!
