Throwback to the farming days of old;

A time of wagons, scythes and horse drawn ploughs,

When fileds were full of wildflowers, herbs and food,

Bringing joy to all, in harmony for the good.

Snowdrops, Summer Snowflakes, love to grow in dappled shade,

Laid like a pretty carpet, on a roadside glade,

Long slim leaves and tall dark stems,

With dainty bonnet flowers dipping down on top of them

The first sign of Spring can be found in the woods,

Wild Garlic leaves spring from their rhizomes beneath,

Gracing pathways with ribbons of fresh new life,

With the promise of abundance in flowers and buds.

Wild Garlic fields, swathe upon swaths, 

Ancient gift of the woods; white flowers, crisp leaves and opening buds,

A find for a forager, a family feast,

So full of goodness and tasty to eat.

New leaves burst from every branch in Spring,

So fresh and soft, glowing in translucent green,

Perfectly made with atoms, cells and elegant veins, 

The miracle of life therin contained.

Sweet Violet, shy one, know that you are truly blessed,

For your daintiness and charm, 

For your exquisite hue so warm,

For your comfort and your balm, 

For your prettiness and calm, quiet surrender.

Oh darling, Red Campions, take me back in time,

To my childhood days when summertime stretched out for miles and miles,

When your colour wass a siran, a notice and a bell,

To say, warm days are on otheir way and all will be well.

As the weather starts to warm, a chill winds in the air,

Wild Parsley opens up in fields and verges, and in lanes,

In sprays of charm, they bloom into clouds of white;

Lace-like and graceful, an early Spring delight.

No prettier flowers adorn our field edges and lanes,

Pure whte petals, heartshaped, stunning yet plain,

With pretty gold stamens, dancing in the breeze,

There is no lovelier wildflowers, than wildflowers like these.

I love the way the sunshine lights the Ferns,

Delicate fronds, unfurling in the Sun,

Such lime-green freshness, every Spring since time began,

To bless this Earth with colour, life and love.

Ferns stretch upwards towards the light,

Tips dipped, revealing sori in lines,

Spores in the sporangia, close to release,

The beauty of new life contained in each fronded leaf.

An furling frond emerges from a rhizome underground, 

Head coiled tightly in a crosier spiralling round,

Just like the head of of an instrument, carved in wood,

The Fiddlehead is named as such, as it fondly should.

Whether wild or crept from a garden hedge,

Such pretty petals white and blushed with red,

Starlight bright against the richness of the green,

I am thankful for the simple joy you bring,

The grandest entrance for the grandest of trees,

The Sycamore is budding like a symphony,

Such strident energy and pure flamboyancy,

Fast-growing known for strength, protection and longevity.

As exquisite as a painting,

A genius form of art,

As perfect as a picture,

In motion, full of life.

Long trailing branches of a Hawthorn Tree,

Gently swaying in a fresh Spring breeze,

The scent of honey and almonds so distinct,

Soon time to go-a-Maying, this coming month.

Named for its dark plum bark and thorny branches,

Petals blossom between razor-sharp edges,

Delicate flowers, clustered like stars in early Spring,

Bringing musk-scented billows of white to hedgerows and fields.

A little bit of sunshine goes a long, long way,

Cheering on the opening buds at the break of day,

Filling hearts with wonder, bringing brighter days,

It's good to know that Spring is truly on its way.

Darling Nemesia, scent of Jasmine and Honey,

Perfect flowers, like tiny Orchids reaching up towards the Sun,

Your fifth year, bringing pleasure, as you have always done,

Thriving in your bigger pot with gifts of tiny pink buds.

Hawthorn Blossom never fails to delight,

The prettiest of stamens and petals in white,

A scent so delicious of almonds and spice,

Such blessings await us when we venture outside.

Apple blossoms on an old Apple tree,

Like pretty pale pink garlands, fluttering in the breeze, 

I look up to the sky to marvel at the picture, 

Nature brings no end of joy and makes our lives so much richer. 

Powder pink and papery, delicate as breath,

The first of the Apple Blossoms, an early Spring gift,

Soon to open out to pollinate, to be fertilised and grow,

Into fruits of juicy Apples, a harvest to bestow.

As the grass starts to grow at the start of its journey;

Wildflowers burst into life in meadows and field edges,

The brightest of yellows are the first to appear,

With Calendine, Buttercup and Dandelion cheer. 

The first of the Rose Buds, so perfectly formed,

A miracle of petals, folded tigthly in folds,

A glimpse of the colour, soon to burst and be born,

To grace every garden in country, city and town.