A Little Maid

No,not B Baggins:) He is quite definitely not the little maid! Here he is walking up the bridle path onto Blackamoor yesterday morning. It was still very icy which took me by surprise as all the roads and footpaths were clear. As we walked along though we discovered several little signs of Spring along the way.

This single dandelion flower peeped out from a sheltered spot beneath the brambles.

Further up the track Moldywarp the Mole had obviously been busy. I love this little passage from Wind In The Willows - perhaps this is what Mole had been up to:)

The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring- cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing.

I'm pretty sure that this is Jew's Ear growing on a branch of elder - if it is Jew's Ear then it's edible and is used in herbal medicine too. The new growths appear in January and can survive freezing temperatures without coming to any harm.

A few bluebell leaves are beginning to push through though it will be a while before we see the wonderful sheets of hyacinth blue flowers.

The fresh young growth of nettles is appearing too - this was always used as a Spring tonic and it is rich in Vitamins A and C as well as potassium, manganese and calcium. It's one of the nine Anglo-Saxon sacred herbs so it's use goes back into the mists of time. It can be cooked like spinach or used to make nettle beer and when they are past the stage of being used like that they are an excellent addition to the compost heap.

And here at last comes the little maid - this is taken from A Walk Down The Lane by Ernest Aris and conjures up such a lovely picture, the celandines are still to appear and those in the photo above are from last year.

The Rip Van Winkles of the wild lie quiescent in their winter habitats, awaiting the days of warmer winds and softer airs. Around a bend in the lane comes a little maid: on her shoulders the snow lies thick. It fills the folds of her dress and mingles with her bonny brown hair. But there is April in her face and July in her eyes and in her hands are celandines and yellow coltsfoot blooms.