Spring always seems to be a slow process here. It begins with the return of the light, just after the New Year. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, but within a couple of weeks, the days are undeniably longer. Soon, we are hurtling towards the Equinox and beyond, and the living room fire is unlit more often than not.

Yet the weather takes it’s time. Oh yes there are those beautiful days - days where I can smell the new growth, and feel the promise of the seasons to come in the sun on my face. But there are many more, at this time of year, when the Spring feels as far away as November. Gusting winds, gales, hail showers and seemingly endless rain.

It feels as if nothing will ever grow again, but of course it does. Even as I peer out of the salt sprayed windows and the wintry croft, I know that the bulbs are pushing up, and the frogspawn is appearing in the ponds.

And when I dash outside, between the showers, I can find the drumstick primroses in their familiar spot and check on the tadpoles’ development. I can harvest the wild garlic and young nettle tops to make a Spring pesto, and rescue the daffodils flattened by the wind.

The pesto is simple enough to make. I gathered colander full of wild garlic leaves, spring nettle tops, parsley and chives. Or whatever you can find. (If you don't have much, or any wild garlic, add a couple of cloves of garlic.)
2- 3 good tablespoons of toasted pine nuts.
3 tablespoons pecorino or parmesan type cheese.
Olive oil - 2-4 tablespoons, depending on the consistency you want.
Salt
Blanch the nettles quickly and rinse the other greens. I give them a good couple of whirls in the salad spinner.
Toast the pine nuts
Grind them coarsely with in a mortar and pestle.
Add the grated cheese and greens.
(I usually blast the green stuff in the food processor, then add the pulp to the mortar but you can do this all in the blender if you prefer)
Add salt to taste.
Mix in the olive oil.

I used some of it to make this Spring pesto sourdough (recipe here). It is very delicious and this is the second year I’ve made it- I think that counts as a seasonal tradition, don’t you?

Incidentally, I’ve managed to keep my original lockdown starter going for over a year now. It’s been touch and go a couple of times, but it’s still hanging on in there. Much like the rest of us in these strangest of days.