April 2024
Whatever the erratic weather of late, I know that Spring has finally arrived because when I opened the door this morning, not only did the sunshine pour in, but I also heard a cuckoo.
In England, it’s said that there are few cuckoos left, and the cheery medieval song ‘Sumer Is I’Cumin In, Loud Sing Cuckoo!’ has not reflected reality in living memory. Here in the Galician countryside, the cuckoo is often to be heard, even before -to us - the weather feels warm enough for nesting. The question is: whose nest? Cuckoos are disliked for their habit of introducing an egg of their own into the nests of other birds, where eventually the huge cuckoo fledgling displaces the rightful occupants. No-one can deny the appeal of the cuckoo’s distinctive call, however, especially at the end of a chilly month. They are true harbingers of better days to come, even if they are also parasites.
So, with the cuckoo making music from a few fields away, it’s time to get out in the garden and begin again. This year I’ll start with the herb bed. Since last autumn was torrentially rainy, much remained to be done when the garden was finally ‘put to bed’ for the winter. Now there’s even more than usual to do - but where to start? How does one manage two square metres of sage, nearly as much oregano, parsley and lemon balm popping up all over the place, and multiple clumps of ‘cebolito’, or spring onion?
A certain amount, of course, can be given away, If this were Italy, the sage would be snapped up in a flash. Since it’s not, I’ve started by dividing some of those clumps of spring onion and potting them up. The first re-potted clump has a destination even before it leaves La Laguna: the already well-stocked herb garden at Refugio Gaucelmo in Rabanal del Camino, which apparently lacks spring onions. There, this pot of them can multiply at will, and will add welcome flavour to many pilgrim suppers.
