Isn't Spring late this year? The vernal equinox may have passed and BritishSummerTime may officially have begun, but the naturalworld seems not to have noticed. Normally by the end of March the trees are budding, the bumblebees are stirring and golden daffodils are fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Not this year, with a blocking anticyclone lumbering the UK with a cold, late winter. But temperatures are finally lifting, not a moment too soon, and Spring may (possibly) be just around the corner. Yesterday I visited London's two largest Royal Parks to see if I could spot Spring for myself. [photos here]
Richmond Park A vast expanse of green and brown, muddy grass and bare branches. A moving tribe of beige and fawn, deer cower in the undergrowth. A steady stream of lime and pink, cyclists and joggers panting by. A distant view of gold and blue, St Paul's is framed between the trees. A hilltop garden of yellow and mauve, daffs and crocuses struggle through.
Richmond Park is enormous. You could cover it with a town the size of Watford, but thankfully nobody's ever tried. Most of the park is rough undulating grassland, sprinkled liberally with ancient forest and thick plantations. I saw little evidence of approaching springtime yesterday, just a lot of trees with empty branches and a few dead brown leaves underfoot. Herds of fallow deer eyed me suspiciously as they nibbled on stumpy bracken. Large numbers of cyclists and joggers were out parading in their finest lycra - I was very definitely in a pedestrian minority. From King Henry's Mound I enjoyed one of London's protectedviews - ten miles eastward towards St Paul's Cathedral. No tower blocks are permitted anywhere along this very special line of sight, and a treeless corridor cut through nearby Sidmouth Wood ensures that Wren's dome remains visible. And it was only here beneath the mound, within the cultivated gardens of Pembroke Lodge, that any evidence of Spring was visible. Formal flowerbeds brimmed with soggy primroses, while scattered daffodils and crocuses pushed bravely through the surrounding slopes. Give it a few weeks, and the rest of the park might catch up.
Bushy Park The second largest Royal Park is far less well known, tucked away beside the meandering Thames between Hampton Court and Kingston. BushyPark is an odd mix of formal and informal, with stretches of open grassland surrounding a fenced-off woodland core. Yesterday the park displayed little evidence of budding Spring. The deer-stalked common looked more early January than late March. Dog walkers hurried along bare paths, out from the car park and back again beneath the invisible sun. Cars queued under leaden skies around the Diana Fountain water feature (that's a towering 17th century block of sculpture depicting the Roman goddess, not Hyde Park's farcical granite trough for a Disney Princess). Only in the central landscaped gardens had a few bulbs braved the winter frost, not so much a carpet of daffodils as a threadbare strip of lino. A few premature rhodedendrons were semi-opened up, providing welcome nectar for a handful of lethargic bumblebees. Two rabbits scampered out of the brambles, perhaps surprised to see their first human intruder of the day. There were also plenty of paired-off birds to be seen, including amorous ducks and a couple of screeching yellow parakeets nesting high in a silver birch. I felt I'd come visiting too early in the season. Spring may not yet have sprung in Bushy Park, but there was clear evidence that it's trying ever so hard to break out.
In search of Spring
A vast expanse of green and brown,
The second largest Royal Park is far less well known, tucked away beside the meandering Thames between Hampton Court and Kingston. Bushy Park is an odd mix of formal and informal, with stretches of open grassland surrounding a fenced-off woodland core. Yesterday the park displayed little evidence of budding Spring. The deer-stalked common looked more early January than late March. Dog walkers hurried along bare paths, out from the car park and back again beneath the invisible sun. Cars queued under leaden skies around the Diana Fountain water feature (that's a towering 17th century block of sculpture depicting the Roman goddess, not Hyde Park's farcical granite trough for a Disney Princess). Only in the central landscaped gardens had a few bulbs braved the winter frost, not so much a carpet of daffodils as a threadbare strip of lino. A few premature rhodedendrons were semi-opened up, providing welcome nectar for a handful of lethargic bumblebees. Two rabbits scampered out of the brambles, perhaps surprised to see their first human intruder of the day. There were also plenty of paired-off birds to be seen, including amorous ducks and a couple of screeching yellow parakeets nesting high in a silver birch. I felt I'd come visiting too early in the season. Spring may not yet have sprung in Bushy Park, but there was clear evidence that it's trying ever so hard to break out.
