Now it came to pass that when the Beast from the East clashed with the Pest from the West, infamous mother of tempestuous storm Emma, then, throughout four days, snow covered fields and mountains from South to North and throughout the land there was much wailing and gnashing of teeth. But behold when the Beast from the East withdrew to lick its wounds and the Pest from the West retreated to mourn the passing of its daughter, the snowdrops and daffodils lifted their heads to praise the sun and the camelia unfurled perfect pink blossom. Then the owner of that garden, she of little faith who had ventured outside to mourn the death of her potted delphinium seedlings, had her tears turned to jpy when she viewed the plants that had continued to grow and gain strength beneath their blanket of snow.
Or, in less flowery language, the hard winter seems to have done little permanent damage to the garden even if many plants are flowering aomewhat later than they did last year. Oh yes and the cammassia have shot up leaves. Whether they'll flower is a different matter. The pond is full of splashing frogs and spawn. A healthy fox was sunbathing on a plastic bag I had laid down on a back bed to warm the soil and and optimistic ducks have waddled down the lane to build their annual nest in the garden of the house opposite, which has a much bigger pond than mine. It also has foxes, magpies and a sparrow hawk's nest, never mind two cats, so there are never any ducklings.