7 of the 20 snowdrops that I planted are now out. The lovely white and
green of the flower, a contrast to the dark damp clay from which they
rise.

The single Narcissi that somehow had separated from its companions
last year, is out, just across from the kitchen window. Battered
continuously by today’s huge winds and rain, its pale Jane Austen
bonnet is plastered around its little orange face.

It’s a fine day and all my spiders have all been re-located to
different parts of the garden just in case they’re territorial. There
was one particular large one and he took a lot of rounding up before
he was finally brought out into the sunshine. Positioned on a postcard
beside a rocky crevice he remained perfectly still. I wondered if he
were elderly: how long do spiders live? Once I am sure I had the same
spider in my kitchen for about 3 years. Unlike the others who quickly
zipped off under twigs and leaves and the tall grasses, this one was
still in the same position, when I checked a half hour later. And the
sparrows and finches were hopping dangerously close. So with the
gentle touch of a blade of grass, he turned his back on me and quickly
disappeared into the small limestone cave.

It’s noon. Sparrows are queuing up for a bath in the old dog dish on
the garden seat. Sparrows don’t usually quarrel I find, but the bath
issue is causing conflict. It’s the third in line that starts it all.
He dawdles first on the rim, bending to splash his head in and out of
the water several times before taking the plunge. And once immersed he
shows no inclination to exit. I can feel his glee all the way down to
where we’re peeling the potatoes for dinner. Spray of wing and water
splash the waiting two but no sufferer of guilt he, and in the
blustering challenge that follows, he holds his ground and again he is
up on the rim of the bowl, triumphant, shaking the drops from his
wings and his drenched little body. Another challenge and he is back
in his swimming pool splashing away once more. When he hops out again,
he sees that the others have gone, and as there’s little fun in being
the King of the water bowl, when there’s no one watching, he
immediately flies away.

The rain pelts against the windows as lights go off and and is still
bearing down as morning comes. A small river has begun to snake across
the field coming in my direction where it will soon gather and make
its way out onto the laneway and down onto the road. It is 4pm and a
blackbird if splashing in the large pool that has appeared outside the
front door.

I begin my Organic Course in An Gairdin, an Organic & Ecology Centre
in Portumna. It will run for 1 day each month for 7 months so we will
follow the full cycle of the gardening year. We will learn about soil
quality and preparation, seed planting, herbs and vegetables growing
and maintenance, organic compost, green manure, natural pest control,
growing outdoors and in poly tunnels. It will be a practical hands on
course. Kieran is our tutor, and I come away today full of ideas and
enthusiasm thinking of all the seeds of my favourite flowers I can
plant in my small new greenhouse and how I can improve on my small
tomatoe crop this year.

The snow is falling over the green field across the laneway. It is
coming straight down – in slow motion, huge white flakes. As I stand
and watch in the quietness, the dogs and my grey jacket turn white.