his weekend, in my infinite wisdom, I decided it was Spring. More through optimism with having a few sunny days rather than anything to do with temperature or the time of year, but I'm going through with this conviction. I mean, it must be spring - I have daffodils in the house, and pussy willows, Dan and I had our first trip of the year to the flower market, and I'm attempting not to fall into a seed sowing frenzy.
have diligently put the majority of the pussy willows in a vase without water, so the pussies don't fall off - top seasonal advice there from the knitting blogosphere, you never know where the useful bit of information will come from. I did sneak a couple of the smaller twigs in with the daffs to see if they would root. Probably not sensible - I doubt there's room for a willow tree of any variety round here...
unday in the garden was almost intoxicating with sunshine. As well as the daffs and willow we also indulged in half a dozen more pots of Iris from the flower market. At £5 for six pots and such a deep colour, it was hard to say no. Apparently I'm now obsessed with these things. There were also some pale indigo ones on another stall, very delicate and pretty, but the saturated purple won me over.
omato seeds were sown and many cuttings were potted on. Dan dug over the vegetable patch ready for peas and carrots. We even got the Sloe Gin on, finally. All in all, a successful weekend.