Calm before the storm

It’s morning, not long after sunrise. I wind down the hill from East Bergholt, and disappear down Tunnel Lane to Flatford. Climbing out of the car at the garden, I am struck by the peace of the place, no noise but birdsong... I love the quiet, secret feeling of early morning.  

The sun is just struggling free of the Constable clouds on the horizon, gilding the tops of the trees above. A greater spotted woodpecker swoops, calling, into the uppermost branches of our old poplar and basks there for a moment, a tantalising flash of red against the thick twigs. 

As I enter the garden, I see shy creatures fleeing the field, the grey flash of a fieldfare, the russet underwing of a redwing, and blackbirds, a little slower to vacate the rich pickings of the turned earth. Always intrigued by the green, watery world of the woodland beyond the garden, I pick my way through the boggy patch at the far end, and am surprised by no less than 3 tree creepers flitting between the huge old alders and picking their way up the bark with delicate curved beaks.

Snowdrops are coming through in drifts – they never fail to fill me with bright hope and a sense of expectation, so brave in the icy air, innocent green and white. 

It won’t be long now before the landscapers arrive to begin work. Selfishly, I want to wrap the peace and silence around me like a thick quilt, have it all to myself..... But once the diggers have been and gone, how wonderful to be able to share this sense of wonder with all comers – watch the leaves unfurl and the flowerbuds open their petals on the spring air, exult over the first queen bumblebee who pays a call.