Lockdown is a lot easier for the suburbs. People surviving lockdown with small children in cramped urban flats with no outdoor space deserve medals.

Meanwhile those of us lucky enough to have gardens have enjoyed some of the best Spring weather ever and with nothing but time to sit and enjoy the changing flowers.

From the hellebores going over, through the narcissus and crocus.

As one flower goes over, another arrives and though the garden seems to be dominated by certain showstoppers, the magnolia or the camellias

There is also pleasure in the smaller plants, the ones that find their own way into the garden, into the pavements, unplanned.

And when the first bright stars in the garden pass, the blossom of the pear tree suddenly arrives like a waterfall draping over the hedge.

As an early example of urban planning, houses here were each planted with a fruit tree alternating pear and apple along the streets.

So my pear tree is likely to be as old as the house, maybe older if planted on root stock.

Which would make this tree more than 112 years old and still so very beautiful. Not that the cats care in the sunshine.

Even the thuggish of plants, the spurge, is fizzing with lime green flowers and cheerful in the shade.

A number of late plantings from Autumn seem to have worked, from the leftover dwarf narcissus in barrels with forget-me-nots,

through to the bucket with a hole planted up with cyclamen, and the leftover narcissus

Having given up (finally) at trying to get rid of the ever repeating bright red tulips planted too quickly twenty years ago, the yellow and orange tulip companions planted in November seem to make them more comfortable, more deliberately planted.

Though like everything in my garden, it’s a basic scramble mess. I would love to be able to plant elegantly but have never been able to resist an overabundance of plants and colour.

In place of elegance and quiet contemplation, my garden is full of places to set and watch the business of bees, the mad scramble and competition as my thuggy plants fight it out of their borders.

Never mind the impending zombie apocalypse: for the first time ever, my Spring baskets have worked and are looking positively cheerful.

Thank goodness for a place to sit and a cat for company.