Lilac Love

Spring has been here for a while, but we've had some really strange weather the past several weeks. The pre-spring weather was quite nice, actually, but the advent of the full moon and the vernal equinox, which took place at the same time, seemed to have brought about a state of indecisiveness with the weather, with brilliant sun and dark clouds cycling through on almost an hourly basis. We actually had hail and sunshine at the same time two days ago.

But the tulips and the lilacs are undaunted by this weather fickleness. I bought hundreds of tulips last December because they had gone on sale, thinking that they would come up anyway despite the fact that they should have been planted in October and November. The untimely planting hasn't seemed to faze them, and they are celebrating a massive display of spring fecundity.

I have a white lilac bush at my front door that is letting every bee in the neighbourhood know it is ready for lilac sex. What a tart! And what a lovely way to express it! Everyone who comes to my door, postman included, must surely be put in a happy state of lilac love. Can springtime get any better?

The pigeons are chasing each other around. Or rather, the male pigeons are chasing the female pigeons around. Great. More pigeons. And why are male pigeons such brutish clods when it comes to courtship? They have no finesse whatsoever. No wonder the females fly off. I feel sorry for the females. There's not a single attractive male in the bunch. And the really sad thing is, that they will eventually have to give in and settle for one of the brutish clods.

I haven't seen any evidence of squirrel courtship in the garden. Squirrels must be much more civilised. I have two squirrels out there that I have been keeping an eye on all winter - Fang, so named because he chewed a hole in the shed door to get to the bag of peanuts, and Daisy. Daisy has white ears, and she is a doll. I think they make a nice couple.

A troop of squirrels came through the garden a few weeks ago, marauders, led by a thug with a deformed ear. His name was Igor. They commandeered the peanut feeder, or rather Igor did, while the other misfits waited their turn, scampering over the patio furniture, marking it the way my Yorkshire Terriers mark the lamp posts when we go for a walk. I let the Yorkies out, who chased them all away, and I haven't seen hide nor grey hair of them since.

I can imagine that Fang and Daisy are making ready for the next generation. I'll probably see the little ones out in a few week's time, chasing each other high up in the tree branches, a baby squirrel acrobatic team. I've been keeping an eye on Daisy, but I haven't noticed if she is putting on weight, so maybe it's too early yet to be thinking of extra peanut feeders or baby squirrel food. We shall see.

In the meantime, I sit here in my conservatory, experiencing the mecurical weather of this particular spring, allowing myself to be wonderfully surprised each day as my garden finds new expressions of lilac love. I know that next spring will be different, just like last spring was different from this one. But what does the garden know of next spring or the last one. All that is important is this spring, this moment, and the wonderful presense of life.