The beautiful renewal of life

I love Easter.  I love the sun shining brightly in the sky, the sweet scent of spring in the air, the birdsong curling through the trees all day long.  To me, Easter is the beginning of the good season; winter is a long-gone memory, our hemisphere is warming up, and life begins, once again, on its beautiful, perfect cycle.  For me, this means hitting the garden, which is especially exciting this year because it's the first spring in our new home.  The garden, it's fair to say, needs some work doing.  Neglected by the previous owners, it resembles, in places, a bit of a rubbish-site-come-rubble-dump.  But look a little deeper, and there's wild potential in this little corner of Newton Abbot.  The bees are dancing merrily around the heather, every upturn of stone reveals centipede and woodlouse, and our grounds, we now know, are home to frogs, toads, and slow worms.  Here are the signs of life, from an array of creatures that have survived the passing winter darkness, and hint at the delights that are to follow.  I didn't get any of the aforementioned creatures on camera, but I did get a quick snap at one of three peacock butterflies, arguably our most beautiful insect, as it settled to bask on a sun-kissed stone.

There is much hard work upon us and we will eventually turn the garden around into somewhere special, but we're both agreed that we'll be doing it with wildlife at the forefront of our minds.  About half way up the garden (for our garden is on a slope) is an old paved level, which I presume was once home to a greenhouse.  One immediate project is to turn this area into a hotbed of vegetables, for which I'll be using a variety of pots, troughs, and containers of all shapes and sizes.  This morning I sowed three old favourites - Swiss chard, perpetual spinach, and good old salad bowl lettuce - and there's more to follow; our lounge windowsill is currently home to a variety of seedlings, including kale, cucumbers, courgettes, lemon balm and oregano.  Talking of these latter two, herbs are going to play a big role in this year's garden, for as well as the appeal these hold for bees, I'll be using thyme, chives and rosemary to create something of a Mediterranean flavour to this corner of the plot.  Lizzie, meanwhile, has had her hands full planting up a large pot, reclaimed from the ramshackle potting shed, as well as scattering some wildflower seeds in the bare patches of the slope.  

Part of the joy of the long weekend at home, is getting the chance to see family.  Lizzie's parents, on a whistle-stop trip from Surrey, stayed with us last night, and this afternoon we dropped over to see Grandma, and then Mum and Terry.  Sharing some time with the ones you love, catching up on life and listening to each other's recent stories is perhaps the most special way to spend a Sunday like this.  Back home, and with the chicken finally defrosted, we settled down for a hearty Easter roast.  I conquered my first roast dinner at Christmas, and am now honing my skills with every passing foray into beef, gammon, or turkey.  We always pick the highest welfare meat we can afford, and were graced today with a good sized, free range chicken that was tender, succulent, full of flavour, and perfectly accompanied by roast potatoes, vegetables and lashings of gravy, all washed down with the first post-Lent beer.  Cheers!

Lent, of course, commemorates the period of forty days, in which Jesus retreated into the wilderness and was tempted by the devil.  At the end of this time, on what became known as Palm Sunday, Jesus entered Jerusalem, ushering in Holy Week - the week that would see him arrested and crucified.  On Easter Sunday, Christians around the world celebrate Jesus' resurrection, and the symbol of hope that it represents.  To me, it's a story that is difficult to forget at this important time of year, for all around us is nature's own renewal of life, and a display of its hopes for the coming seasons.  It exists in each daffodil springing anew, in every bumblebee emerging from the ground, nature's balanced cycle on yet-another trip, upon which we are all passengers.  It's beautiful, it's perfect, and it's a reminder that home really is the only place I'd ever want to be on this miraculous, spiritual, weekend.

The Resurrection portrayed at a Lutheran Church, South Carolina (source: Wikipedia)