This morning I was going to plant our overblown daffodils from the pot in the kitchen into the garden, to join the ones already growing there. When I sat down to dig the first hole I saw that I was surrounded by cherry seedlings. They were legion. I don’t want them to root themselves properly or we will never get rid of them – run them over with a lawnmower and they will just keep coming back, until there’s a hard, gnarly lump of a root with pointy stumps sticking up – painful to step on with bare feet. So I plucked them out with their roots. I counted three hundred and sixty-eight. Or perhaps three hundred and seventy, I suspect I lost count twice. But since they were so concentrated it was quick work, a second or two for each one, so it was no more than fifteen minutes’ work. (Otherwise I’d have given up far earlier.)

Then I planted the daffodils. I hope they will like their new home. This autumn I would like to plant some more crocuses there as well. We have some, but they make more of an impression in larger amounts.

The primroses growing on that side of the house are puny this year: small leaves, really short stalks, and small flowers. Too dry, perhaps? Nothing like last year’s display.

One hundred and thirty-six