Country diary: the hedgerows are full of fairytale gifts

Barton-le-Willows, North Yorkshire: Just weeks ago we were sledging on these hills. Now the branches are laden again, this time with floral snow

The wedding invitation says no gifts. After so long together they wish for nothing but our company. But in 17 years of friendship with this couple, we've shared adventures and foolery, elation and loss; we've laughed, we've cried, we've raised children. So the occasion merits a token, at least. I decide to forage for something.

Our local hedgerows are peaking. As I select primroses, forget-me-nots, stitchwort and sprigs of blossom to adorn the wedding cake, the earworm I've hosted for days starts up again: Andy Williams singing It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year, Christmas bells and all. It's weirdly apt in a year when the weather has played merry hell with seasonal succession. Just weeks ago we were sledging on these hills. Birdsong greeted blizzards, the first cuckoo called in icy drizzle, and our swallows bowled in over another boreal blast. Now the branches are laden again, this time with floral snow.