It is March and the anticipation of spring hangs heavily in the sweetly-scented air. Thankfully, there’s a healthy smattering of clear, blue-sky days ahead now, and you can almost hear the movement of perennials stirring beneath the cold soil as they awaken from their winter slumber.
The only remnants of last autumn in my own borders are the bleached, parchment-coloured stems of my beloved ornamental grasses, standing like sentinels over the emerging daffodils and fading snowdrops. The arrival of daffodils is a timely reminder, telling me to reach for my trusty, newly sharpened, secateurs and to fell the dishevelled remains of the grasses to the ground.