Diary of the Plague Year: Day 47 1 May 2020: Cherry and Pear trees

Considering it is the first of May it is cold and windy. I got caught in a sudden shower as I was mowing my path through the meadow. The Pound Shop in Clon was selling fruit trees and I simply could not resist and bought a Morello Cherry and a mini-Pear. Chatting to Dutch about trees in general his theory is that it is never really too windy and just to persevere and be patient. With this in mind I am determined to try and find a likely spot for my favourite of all trees, a magnolia. Magnolias hate wind. All the winds of Ireland seem to blow around this house, it is howling as I write this, but it may not be so far fetched. There are sheltered spots, by the front gate for example and actually behind the shed may be a good spot. We will see …. in any case it is all speculation at present as all the garden centres are well and truly shut.

My new toy arrived today, the electric hedge cutter I ordered.

I am trying to galvanise myself into action and go into the garden to put the new trees in water. It’s so damn cold and windy though. I have a Zoom chat booked with Michael at 4 so I will just dash out for an hour. My wildflower seeds have also arrived – I am planning to plant them this evening.

Took out my torn-up cardboard for the compost heap and put the new trees in water. I have realised that as a gardener one is forced to become an optimist. The roots of the cherry look very sad indeed but hey ho – lets see what happens.

The new Morello Cherry and Williams Pear relaxing in their bucket of water.

Diary of the Plague Year: Day 47 1 May 2020: On the back roads

May Day.

As it is such a beautiful day I took a roundabout route home from Clon today and stopped to photograph this house. The overgrown, secretive front gate. The birds on the gateposts are owls.

The back roads were deserted and the bluebells were blowing. Their colours vary, sometimes an intense matt lavender in the shade of trees and after rain an electric, varnished blue. You only have to look at a sunny sky and back again at bluebells to understand the impossibility of describing blue.

A magical house on the back roads