Last week, on the very last day of February, we began the big cut back. I sent out a little prayer to the rain gods to provide us a dry window, for we had planned ahead and committed to a dozen pairs of hands to make a day of it. John and Johnny prepared for the big day the evening before with barrows, dumpy bags and a stack of planks to help us spread our weight as we ventured onto the heavy, wet soil. I fell asleep that night as the rain pattered once again on the windows and tried not to fret, but woke to quiet, grey skies and the task ahead made easier for being dry. 

Each year, the winter seems shorter and the mild wet weather this year has seen new growth beginning to push in the middle of February. It feels right not to interrupt the cycle by removing the cover and forage the skeletons provide, but there comes a moment when the push of new growth flushes and the spent growth from the last year begins to feel redundant. The giant fennels have been burgeoning for weeks now, seizing the winter as they would in their homeland of Greece. The hemerocallis are the real litmus, pushing through the splay of last year’s foliage, now mostly decomposed and pulled to earth by the worms. This is time and there is spring work to do. Splitting and adjustments whilst plants are waking from slumber, and the moment is optimum for change.