Just as the forest astonishes us by its headlong rush to fully leaf out its canopy, and the forest floor is no longer just the precinct of generations of leaf mould and twigs, our garden has been urging itself to surprise us daily with new offerings.

The magnolias are now beyond the bud stage and well into full flowering mode. Clematis vines are steadily clambering upward. Roses are pushing out new growth on the cusp of producing rosebuds. Some of the peonies have already produced their buds in infant form, prepared to coddle them for the brief time it takes for them to reach maturity.

The early annual bleeding hearts are in bloom. Ladies Mantle has seeded itself annoyingly all over the rockery, and so has our favourite spring flowering plant, columbine. Whereas the columbine is neat and tidy and not given to sprawl, politely taking a back seat once it has flowered, the Ladies Mantle has a sense of arrogance, feeling itself fully entitled to take far more room than it should. The hostas, however, are fighting back and it is their presence throughout the summer months that we rely hugely upon for architecture and colour.

The corkscrew hazel hasn't yet leafed out, though a disparate few bright green leaves have appeared. It is at this time of year that its astonishing networked contortion of branches come to attention, a unique tree indeed.

Jack and Jill have lost their rockery privileges. They've been too ardent about picking off those little 'chicks' in the Hens-n'-chicks combo of mother plant and offspring that is so valuable as a beautiful ground cover in the rock garden. Serves them right, little blighters. The puppies, that is; their freedom sacrificed to the wish to sustain our plants. They (Jack and Jill, of course), are also quite fond of digging up spring violent roots, finding them delectable; it's one of the reasons we're keeping that temporary 'fence' up around the garden border at the back, since they're quite undiscriminating and we've got to keep them away from the lilies....