The Light Has Shifted: Early Signs of Spring in the Garden | Slow Living

The light has shifted. Early signs of spring are beginning to appear in the garden.

You notice it first in the evenings — a softness that lingers a little longer at the kitchen window.

It always catches me by surprise. The day no longer closes in so quickly.

There is time to see more clearly, to step outside into the garden, to notice what is returning.

This week I found giant snowdrops pushing up through the rhubarb forcer (for some reason, growing rhubarb eludes me, while my mother insists hers in Devon grows like a weed, returning year after year).

Hellebores hang low, as if too shy to meet the sun — muted greens and dusky pinks against the pale light. A flare of yellow: narcissus impossibly vivid after months of winter restraint.

The garden is in no rush. It slowly unfolds.

It reminds me that change can be gentle.

If you cook by the seasons, this is the most hopeful moment of all — the looking ahead. The planning. The quiet imagining.

Spring is anticipation: sweetness is coming.
Strawberries are on their way.