A few weeks ago, I found a dozen or so camassia bulbs in the shed, that I had lifted and cleaned earlier in the autumn.
They have been growing quite happily where they sat in the shed, but I’ve brought three inside to keep a closer eye on.
Bulb vases always evoke something special. To me, they always signified the very embryonic stages of a new year and a new cycle in the natural world.
I can recall their presence in my childhood: a subtle symbol that winter was perhaps, at long last beginning to wind up.
It’s not even January, so I’m aware that we have a lot of winter ahead of us, but the symbolic presence of bulb vases means I can start looking forward, rather than backwards.