Splendour of larchtrees

I FED the hens, checked on my rather barren looking vegetable garden and wandered on down into my little wood in search of signs of spring.

Winter has been very reluctant to admit defeat this year. There were leaves out on the elders but they looked battered by wind and frost. A hint of green on the hawthorn twigs and swollen green buds on the wild cherries, long catkins on the hazel but the oak, ash and beech were lifeless.

Then, at the end of the wood, I came across two young larch trees I had planted and they were making a brave effort to signal spring was just around the corner. There is no greener green than newly-emerged larch needles.