Rhubarb Rhubarb

Back at Spofforth after a three week absence I was pleased to note that not much had changed, just as Diana had said the frost pocket in her garden keeps everything late so I hadn't missed much. I think Diana herself had been glad of the break as her hips have been a bit cranky of late, therefore I was glad to turn over the compost heaps and mulch the squash beds for her. I think the trouble is she tries to keep up with me, which was fine in the beginning when I was a bit porky but I'm quite a lot fitter now! We also did a bit of apple tree pruning as we passed through the orchard, little and often seems to suit Di better rather than going at it hammer and tongs to finish the job all at once. As we made our way back to the house for lunch we noticed that the rhubarb buds were showing fat and pink above the crown, so we went and retrieved the old dustbin that is used as a forcer and placed it over the top, we should have delicate flavoured stems ready to pick in about four weeks. Weird stuff rhubarb, more alien invader than plant, they say you can hear it growing in the forcing sheds of the north, pushing its way skyward murmuring and rustling in the candle-light!

"Ah March! We know thou art kind-hearted, in spite of ugly looks and threats. And out of sight art nursing Aprils violets" Helen Hunt