No Melbournian is likely to agree with me, but now that I’ve just returned from WA (Kalbarri, Ningaloo Reef, camping, sun, snorkeling, wildflowers, thank you, it was nice) it seems that spring has stealthily crept up on Melbourne and only those away for 3 weeks can see the change.
But its eye candy to me.
I left a dank dripping garden – surely? – and have returned to an explosion of colour. Along the front path – I’m not proud of this – are lots of that toughest dwarf daffodil, Tete-a-Tete, somehow forming two sort-of rows – how did that happen? - now pushing each other over, more body than head. I must dig some up and toss them about (and I don’t like `shoulds’ in the garden, not one little bit; lots of maybe’s is fine).
Before reaching the garden, it’s a fair trek from Tullamarine to the Dandenong’s, and much of it, even along freeways, was kissed by bright lemon wattles; within our own gate, Myrtle Wattle the showiest; brightest primrose – not gold – and wallaby-pruned. Cinnamon Wattle too, Golden and even a sprinkling of early pale Blackwood.
Within the garden there is nectarine blossom, and Venus Navel, and gold Kerria, the single one. Hellebores of every hue, it seems, but it’s the neat double lemons I love, that Peter Leigh has bred. (A visit to Post Office Farm is called for.) Little blue crocus and tiny pink cyclamen and English primrose peeping out.
It’s more miraculous, I realize as I sift old newspapers and read that 2 weeks ago it was about 10 degrees here but apparently (due to wind chill factor) it felt like zero. Is that an official whinge, Melbourne? Yep.
But it’s the gold daffodils lighting up the garden that have really wrought the change, beaming in pure sunlight, or so it seems. Those white flowers I love in the garden have receded and join the cool clouds. For once its bright yellow that’s lifting the garden and giving it the zest it needs just now.