Yesterday, as it hadn't rained for several days (newsworthy in Argyll!), I mowed the front and side green terrace. Apparently it's gravel underneath but it has been green all the time we've lived here; we're now into the thirteenth year. Actually, thinking about it, most of the garden is stony under thin soil and thick moss. When the farmer did a small amount of ploughing in the field alongside us last autumn to slow down the water drainage to the gardens below, his huge ploughshare turned over a rock more than half the size of a wheelie bin. Mosses—mostly Common Tamarisk-moss (Thuidium tamariscum) and Springy Turf-moss (Rhytidiadelphus squarrosus)—make up most of the green but there are some grasses plus Common Cat's-ear galore and, increasingly, primroses. Most of the primroses are over the drystone wall and down the front bank but enough of their seeds are blowing or being carried over (or through, perhaps, by bank voles). So I scan for any sign of primrose leaves, like these tiny ones below, and mow round them.
While I was crawling around checking out primrose leaves I found an apparently struggling bumble bee. I made some sugar water but it didn't seem able to drink. I left it and the water somewhere safe. It is still where I left it, now looking dead.
Below is a tub of mossy mowings
These little woodrushes are popping up among the mosses too.
When they open they are a spring brightness.
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