There’s a quiet shift on the farm this week.
You notice it first in the light. The evenings stretch a little longer now, holding onto the day as if reluctant to let it go. The sun lingers over the fields, casting everything in that soft honeyed glow that only early spring seems to manage. And slowly, OH so slowly, the mud begins to disappear.
After months of wellies lined by the door and careful steps across sodden ground, the paths are starting to firm beneath our boots. The gateways are less treacherous. The wheelbarrow rolls without protest. It feels like a small miracle every year.
The birds, of course, have noticed before we have. Their morning chorus grows louder and more confident with each passing day, blackbirds calling from the hedgerows, robins flitting between fence posts, red kites rising high above the fields. The farm feels awake again, and there's a different kind of energy here now. Not hurried, but hopeful.
Seed catalogues lie open across the kitchen table, corners turned down and favourites circled. Conversations turn to this year’s veg patch, what thrived, what struggled, what new varieties we might try. There’s talk of runner beans reaching skywards, heritage carrots tucked into neat rows, sweet peas weaving along their supports. Planning the veg patch always feels like planting optimism itself.
But it’s not only seeds that are being planned. During those long, wet and dark months, certain jobs were paused, fences waiting to be mended, sheds waiting for stronger hands and drier ground, pathways that need reshaping, corners of the farm that deserve a little care. Winter asks for patience. Spring asks for action.
Now the notebooks are out. Plans are being drafted. Lists are growing. There’s talk of fixing, building and making better. Of repairing gates that have weathered too many storms. Of strengthening structures before the busier months arrive. Of improving drainage, refreshing paintwork, tidying hedgerows, and finally starting the projects that winter kept at bay. Spring doesn’t just wake the land, it stirs us too!
The lighter nights, the firmer ground, and the sense of forward motion gives us quite a spring in our step in the workshop and studio (pardon the pun). After the slower rhythm of winter, we feel ready to begin again creatively. Sketchbooks are filling. New ideas are forming. We’re starting work on the next set of designs and product ranges, inspired by the season unfolding just beyond the studio door.
Soft new textures. Gentle, nature-led colours. Pieces shaped by hedgerows, birdsong and the first green shoots pushing through. It’s an energising, exciting time, when plans on paper begin to take shape. When the practical work on the farm and the creative work in the studio seem to move in harmony, each feeding the other.
The greenhouse will soon sprout with trays of seedlings. Compost will be turned into the beds. Tools will be oiled and set ready. And in the studio hands will be sketching and painting, bringing new collections quietly to life.
Spring on the farm isn’t polished. There are still crisp mornings and the occasional sharp wind. But there’s softness returning to the edges of everything. New grass pushing through. Buds forming quietly along the hedgerows. The promise of busy, purposeful days ahead. It’s a season of preparation and possibility, of rolling up our sleeves and stepping forward with intention.
As the nights grow lighter and birdsong greets each morning, we feel ready. Ready to mend. Ready to build. Ready to grow. Ready to create.
A very exciting time lies ahead.
With warmth,
The Humble Hare x