Bluebells and pigs

My favourite place to see bluebells in London is Holland Park. You can't stroll through them, but you get these gorgeous views through the trees across a sea of shimmering blue that momentarily makes you feel like you're miles away and that a haywain might suddenly appear round the corner. Or even a pig.

Only this year, you might actually get to see a porker in the park in one of London's best postcodes. It's not a creature you'd normally associate with this part of town. But four saddleback pigs have been brought in for a couple of months as part of the woodland management programme. The Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea had to choose between chemicals or pigs, and the porkers won.Their rooting around will naturally grub up bulbs and wildflowers that have become congested - so next year's bluebells will look even more stunning.

But while it is a beautiful spot, the park is over fond of rules and regulations: dogs on leads and no skateboarding are top of the list. While my skateboarding is hardly going to suffer, I do like the dog to be able to potter about of his own free will; with so much other animal life about (black rabbits and peacocks too), I might bedgrudgingly admit that it's not an unreasonable request. But do they need quite so many signs to remind you? There are so many that I almost missed the notice about the pigs.

Imperfect timing and eau de rhubarb

Everything is late this year. It's official. Late spring, late sowing of seeds, transplanting, flowering. That long winter has a lot to answer for.  And we're experiencing some pretty brisk temperatures again this past week. Consequently, the at-work allotment is looking a little skimpy and the turnout for seed sowing has been thin - unseasonal weather and too many meetings sometimes get in the way. But one thing it hasn't affected is the rhubarb.

Rhubarb is a perennial veg and as such is quite low maintenance. You just have to be patient.  We planted a crown, (a perfect name for this quite regal vegetable) almost 18 months ago and I watched tantalisingly as it established through last summer - you're not supposed to pull the stalks until its second year of growth. But I popped into the allotment on election day, on my way home to vote, just see how things were doing and give things a water. The rhubarb is looking splendid, all lush leaves and pink stalks. I plucked four or five and had an intoxicating ride home with the glorious scent of fresh stalks wafting from my bicycle basket. It's my new favourite smell - better than freshly mown grass. And the resulting crumble was outstanding; husband gave it a rave review.

Jellybeans, candyfloss and Barbara Cartland

It's not been bad for a May Day bank holiday. Gusty and cold after a month's worth of rain, but enough sunshine to make it worth seeing some gardens. So I persuaded Dan, Nick and Ian to join me on the Great Garden trail. This grand title makes it sound like a horticultural magical mystery tour; the reality was not so much a trail, as an alternative NGS open day - without the cakes. We picked three south London gardens, two of which were perfectly nice, text book designs, but somehow failed to inspire. Luckily, Ian and I caught Charles Rutherford's back garden just before he shut up shop. This was the one that got my big wow. I don't know what it looks like the rest of the year, but it really packs a big spring punch into a small space. Loved the Barbara Cartland pink tulips. I want those in my garden next year.

So the spring bank holiday is over, a change of government looms like a dark cloud and the weather forecast is for continued icelandic blasts of cold and unseasonal air. I think we should raise a glass to April and commit to memory these past few weeks of near-perfect weather, spring at its most gorgeous, full of hope for a hot summer and anticipation of a new growing season.

London in April was like a trippy sweet shop (cue Beatles pastiche music and psychedelic animations...). Days of clear blue skies (momentarily plane-free); bone-and-soil-warming sunshine; candyfloss pink cherry blossom trees lining suburban streets, jellybean-coloured tulips bobbing through flowerbeds all over town, fizzy lime new leaves unfurling before my eyes, and unmown grass glittering with spangle-like dandelions and sherbert daisies. Yum.