The Easter break has come and gone and seemingly any hint of good weather with it. Frosty mornings mean my tomato and cucumber seedlings are sulking in the greenhouse and the neat rows of my tulip cutting bed are all at sea. Last year I couldn’t bear to cut and leave holes in the serried ranks. This year their silken petals cling on like tattered sails to a shipwrecked mast.
There have been highlights however. Last week we were juggling hailstorms and sunny spells in East Yorkshire. Curiosity took us to Bridlington, seaside resort and home to Hockney for the past few years.
The brassy end of town was jangling with coloured fishing boats and gaudy fascias, while a string of pliant, grey- backed donkeys idled on the deserted beach below.
Up in the the narrow red bricked streets of the old town, polished windows paraded vintage collectables and steamed up cafes concealed hot pots of proper tea.
We drove away from the town along Woldgate to Kilham, a ten mile single track road, now immortalised in Hockney’s brilliant ‘Arrival of Spring’ iPad drawings. Blackthorn was just bursting into flower in the hedgerows, its white blossoms laced around black branches, and oilseed rape flecked the fields with outrageous colour. Just an ordinary country lane but at the same time utterly extraordinary in its diversity of colours and shapes. Thank you Hockney for reminding us to appreciate the minutest detail of the changing seasons.
So, on with the rain mac, I’m off to check out the blossom in the orchard.