Trish Caller: 'Springtime in Somerset is so beautiful'

As a child in a catholic family, it usually began with Palm Sunday, and we were reminded about the true meaning of Easter – The death and rising of Jesus. I must admit, as a child it meant gorging on chocolate eggs!

Currently, the supermarkets are full of Easter bunnies, Easter eggs, hot cross buns and gardening stuff. In the past, I would never have noticed the gardening things. However, we moved home in November and our new house has a lovely new garden space, Shed and a Greenhouse. Suddenly I have a new addiction. I’ve never been a gardener. At the moment, I am addicted to the middle aisles of several supermarkets. I go in for a loaf of bread and come home with watering cans, pots, trellis and a couple of trees!

I have so much enthusiasm but no skills at all. This first year is going to be trying different things and hoping for the best. My first attempt at growing lettuce from seeds was hilarious! How was I to know not to plant the whole packet at once! It grew quickly and ran out of space, and I didn’t know I should have spread them out a bit and they died. Gutting, but also, a learning experience? My poor husband has been helping, making raised beds and doing the heavy digging. I’d love to grow some potatoes, onions, carrots etc. Fresh herbs have just been planted. I’d also love to grow tomatoes and strawberries! I have all the gear and no idea. But I will try my best.

Springtime in Somerset is so beautiful. Thousands of beautiful daffodils everywhere. Lush, green grass and blossom. I love seeing so much colour. My hay fever not so much. 
From the Mendip Hills to the Levels, springtime here is not just a season—it’s a celebration. It begins subtly, with snowdrops peeking through the frost in early February, followed by clusters of cheerful primroses dotting the banks and pathways. By March, daffodils trumpet the turning of the season, carpeting churchyards and meadows with their golden glory.

As the days lengthen and the sun stretches a little higher in the sky, the palette intensifies. Violets and celandines sparkle at the feet of ancient stone walls. Tulips sway elegantly in neat rows in village gardens, their petals catching the light like stained glass. Bluebells soon follow, carpeting the woodland floors in places like Kings Wood and Prior’s Wood, their heady scent mingling with the fresh, earthy tang of new leaves.

Perhaps the most iconic of all is the apple blossom. Somerset, with its rich cider-making heritage, is blessed with countless orchards. In April and early May, these trees become clouds of pink and white. There’s something almost poetic about walking through an orchard in full bloom, the petals drifting down like confetti on the breeze.

Cherry trees, too, put on a spectacular show. In towns like Wells and Frome, their blossoms turn streets into pink dreamscapes. Hawthorn, known locally as “May blossom,” begins to froth along the hedges, adding a sweet perfume to the countryside air.

Then come the wildflowers—cowslips, forget-me-nots, foxgloves, and the humble yet radiant dandelions. Nature doesn’t hold back in Somerset. Even the roadside verges and field margins become living tapestries of colour.

But spring in Somerset isn’t just about the flowers—it’s about a mood. It’s the sight of lambs tottering in the fields, the buzz of bees returning to work, and the sound of birdsong that seems to echo louder under the vast, brightening skies.

I have a very exciting week next week. I hope to be able to tell you all about it soon.
See you again in four weeks! Until then – Stay Safe and Be Kind.