The truth of the matter is our canalside cutting garden is focused on spring. A hidden mass of bulbs beneath the earth are waiting. No ifs, buts or maybes, our cutting garden is just a glorious focus on the life that bursts from the soil after the dark of winter.

At that very moment you feel you'll never see light again, never feel the warmth of the sun, that moment when you have given up any hope or optimism, there spring bursts forth. I have this theory that your favourite season is often the one in which you were born.

Every equinox is a scented surprise although I don't know why. More faith in nature on my part is required I suspect. The hedges are singing and the moles are digging. Our local Cheshire floral business is timing it's first classes to coincide with blossom and birdsong and the first of the British blooms.

If you are passing on your narrow boat at bridge 14, you'll have the best view of the daffodils. You'll also have a splendid view if you pick up your Mother's Day bouquet or you decide to make your own at one of our Wild Garden Workshops at the Wharf.

The first daffodils shout yellow and laughter and wave to the towpath from our canalside cutting garden. Their smaller classier cousins follow. Smart and sophisticated paler shades of white, they are often the ones spring brides adore. My heart and hireath belongs to the yellow ones though.

That's not to say there are no flowers later in the year. That would feel almost impolite.