Saturday, 14 February 2009


A chorus of bird song rings around when I step outside. Within the soup of song are the scratchy, buzzing notes of overwintering siskins singing from the birch trees and telling us that we are in February.

The snow is still frozen and thick in our sheltered garden, five inches thick and crunchy.

But in areas where the snow has melted, we can see plucky chives. They are the smallest members of the onion family and grow in in perennial clumps, waiting for us to snip their mild green shoots for the kitchen. Here they are sprouting through the scree mulch, pretending we are in some tundra landscape. I'll bring their dotty daydreams back to earth with a pair of scissors soon to garnish today's soup or to flavour a sandwich.

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