What a difference a little sunshine makes! I woke up this morning to a bright blue and yellow day. Little yellow crocuses, sparkly with dew, are peeking out in seemingly random places (did I really plant them there?!), birds are quarrelling over the scraps of toast I threw out of the window after breakfast, and although I’m not confident enough to throw open the shutters and proclaim that spring is busting out all over, there’s definitely an improvement on yesterday’s hysterically tempestuous meteorological mood. The first of March has arrived with a smile on its face.
Remember the frozen hose-pipe in the garden I spent hours coaxing back to life with the hairdryer a few weeks ago while Mr. Prescott ogled Roger Federer? Fixed! Some nice men came and spent three days digging a trench, laid a new pipe where the old one was lying in distress, hooked it up to the mains and everything went back to normal. They even circumvented my precious rhododendrons, so all is well in my botanical world.
Speaking of botanical worlds, I was in Cornwall last week with my daughter. We travelled to Falmouth to see the university, and while we were there, visited the stunning Trebah Gardens on the Lizard Peninsula, near the tiny town of Gweek. Cornwall has a unique sub-tropical climate thanks to the proximity of the Gulf Stream, so plants are deliriously happy there. Palm trees in England? Yes! The palms we saw in Trebah Gardens seemed far happier than many of their water deprived relatives roughing it out in southern countries. Although it was a little early in the season to fully appreciate the beauty of this place, we nevertheless squealed with excitement at the sight of camellias, snowdrops, primroses, and even a few daffodils (well, I squealed; my teenage daughter’s show of enthusiasm was a little more subdued). I'd love to go back in about two months to witness the rhododendron spectacular, because although my six year old trio by the front door do me proud, they are anemic wimps in comparison to the Technicolor giants at Trebah sashaying down the hillside with a grandiose view of the beach. How tall are they? Think in terms of trees, not bushes.
By summertime, the hydrangeas probably aren’t bad either, cascading alongside a stream that feeds a small lake patrolled by a family of friendly ducks. We had a lovely walk around, breathing liters of sea-scented chlorophyll, before hopping back into the car and braving the narrow wiggly lanes our GPS system adamantly insisted was the only way back to Falmouth. Why on earth do my compatriots insist on driving on the wrong side of the road? Whenever we’d pull out of anywhere I’d have to remind myself to “stay in the middle”. My abs got a full workout, contracting to the max whenever we squeezed past oncoming traffic. I was hoping for some rewarding abdominal definition after all that stress, but sadly, when I got back to Geneva and checked, the blubber was still squatting my midsection. I should have indulged in a second delicious treacle tart with clotted cream at The Cove, a great little restaurant on the beach in Maenporth, because it wouldn’t have made a scrap of difference! Does anyone have the recipe for Treacle Tart? I’m obsessed!
Have a wonderful month of March.
Lots of love,
Francesca
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