The shepherd on his pasture walks
The first fair cowslip finds,
Whose tufted flowers, on slender stalks,
Keep nodding to the winds.
And though the thorns withhold the May,
Their shades the violets bring,
Which children stoop for in their play
As tokens of the Spring.
‘April’, from the ‘The Shepherd’s
Calendar’ by John Clare
AN emerald wave-splash of cleavers up the hedge. When hurrying along the lane yesterday, I grabbed a handful of the cleavers’ Velcro-y tendrils, balled them up and threw them hazily over the gate to the waiting donkey. She has a taste for them. I misjudged the afternoon’s sailing sweet breeze slightly, she moved slightly and the bunched cleavers landed on top of her head, to sit like a green bird’s nest. She was not amused. I’m not one for diminishing the dignity of animals, but I confess to the difficulty of keeping a straight face at her comic headwear. As I leaned over the gate to restore her normal nobility, I was overtaken by one of those floods of memory of such vivid intensity that the effect is a physical arrestation. I was seven again, walking with my grandmother along the lane at Withington, and I dawdled behind to attach a strand of cleavers onto the back of her gabardine mac. A childish prank, known to generations of country kids; Galium aparine ‘cleaves’ to clothing and hair, hence the plant’s folk names ‘sticky billy,’ ‘gentleman’s tormentor’ and ‘sticky back’.
Denne historien er fra April 26, 2023-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra April 26, 2023-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
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Kitchen garden cook - Apples
'Sweet and crisp, apples are the epitome of autumn flavour'
The original Mr Rochester
Three classic houses in North Yorkshire have come to the market; the owner of one inspired Charlotte Brontë to write Jane Eyre
Get it write
Desks, once akin to instruments of torture for scribes, have become cherished repositories of memories and secrets. Matthew Dennison charts their evolution
'Sloes hath ben my food'
A possible paint for the Picts and a definite culprit in tea fraud, the cheek-suckingly sour sloe's spiritual home is indisputably in gin, says John Wright
Souvenirs of greatness
FOR many years, some large boxes have been stored and forgotten in the dark recesses of the garage. Unpacked last week, the contents turned out to be pots: some, perhaps, nearing a century old—dense terracotta, of interesting provenance.
Plants for plants' sake
The garden at Hergest Croft, Herefordshire The home of Edward Banks The Banks family is synonymous with an extraordinary collection of trees and shrubs, many of which are presents from distinguished friends, garnered over two centuries. Be prepared to be amazed, says Charles Quest-Ritson
Capturing the castle
Seventy years after Christian Dior’s last fashion show in Scotland, the brand returned under creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri for a celebratory event honouring local craftsmanship, the beauty of the land and the Auld Alliance, explains Kim Parker
Nature's own cathedral
Our tallest native tree 'most lovely of all', the stately beech creates a shaded environment that few plants can survive. John Lewis-Stempel ventures into the enchanted woods
All that money could buy
A new book explores the lost riches of London's grand houses. Its author, Steven Brindle, looks at the residences of plutocrats built by the nouveaux riches of the late-Victorian and Edwardian ages
In with the old
Diamonds are meant to sparkle in candlelight, but many now gather dust in jewellery boxes. To wear them today, we may need to reimagine them, as Hetty Lintell discovers with her grandmother's jewellery
