The primroses have stretched their fragile necks for one last glimpse the sun before being overwhelmed by the encroaching fresh grass and sinking back into obscurity . But now our Devon hedgerows are coming into their own . Bluebells with bowed heads and dainty bells wait coyly to be admired in shady copses and along the verdant verges . White , purple mauve pink and blue all fight for our attention . Borage with its nettle like stems and leaves and bright blue flowers mingles with ragged robin ,campion , vetch,stitchwort toadflax and cranesbill. The almost oriental heads of cow parsley are spreading their umbrella like flowers just waiting to turn the banks into a sea of white foam .The hedges themselves are bursting into life - the hawthorn has been out for sometime but now the fresh lime green of beech and hornbeam , oak and may all fill out the winter baron hedgerows and underneath the chameleon like tongues of ferns are beginning to unravel .They are alive with the sound of birdsong- singing hedges what a delight .
I climbed the hill out of our village and looked out over the valley where last week the ploughed fields were terracotta coloured ,now after rain they have returned to dark rich red so common to Devon .Interspersed are giant fields of yellow oilseed rape that coupled with fresh winter wheat make the countryside look like a patchwork quilt of reds yellows and greens ,natures giant bedspread . And above - yes the buzzards wheeling higher and higher calling out for their mates before swooping down to a distant woodland. Spring in all its magical abundant glory is well and truly here .
