It's frightening to think of the hours of work that can be lost because of a moment's lapse in memory, and the new gardener must realize that to sprout seeds and take cuttings is to commit oneself to a babysitting job where life and death are on the line.

Extremes are what we're afraid of, and extremes are exactly what we're dealing with in early April – extremes of temperature and weather that bite us when we’re not paying attention. It is difficult to stay vigilant. So much easier to be soothed into a false sense of security by a warm day spent dividing ornamentals. But it's still dangerous out there.

Some things are quite happy...and quite safe. Peony and aquilegia shoots have begun their upward thrust and seem to be secure in their timing. Not so the Rogersia. A late frost will cut it, wilted and blackened to the ground, where it must start again – so I look at those early shoots and developing leaves with some reservation, taking out the fleece when low temps threaten

One of the best joys of the April garden is watching the daffodils supported by the emerging foliage of larkspur, fennel and poppies, and I highly recommend this type of layered planting to extend your garden’s season, not just your daffodil season. Soon, the daffodil foliage will be swallowed up (but quite green) by the emerging perennials and self-seeded annuals, and I will not feel the need to yank it until it is quite yellow.

If only I could follow up with tulips, but the deer have spoiled that avenue of pleasure, forcing me to start containers in fenced areas for fenced areas. It is one of the main plant/deer resentments I have, for the show could be so great otherwise.

Speaking of deer, the self-seeded plain-Jane hosta will be carpeting a long, boring bed by May and be eaten by June, but April always makes me feel as if the hundreds of emerging shoots might survive. I cannot be bothered to rip them all out and save future disappointment, so instead I look at it more as a temporary flush of color, cutting the ‘celery stalks’ to the ground with a trimmer in early July.

You’d think it would weaken them, but it doesn’t seem to. The hosta I mean – nothing weakens the deer. Meanwhile, I am letting ostrich fern get a foot-hold on the bed, and regretting it even as they pick up steam. They are beautiful, lush and deer-proof; but they are also thuggish and unstoppable. I would have preferred a well-woven tapestry to a mono-textural bolt of cloth, but sometimes you have no choice.

Greens, radishes and pea tendrils are making their way to our plates, and between that and a healthy supply of eggs, I suppose we could subsist somewhat happily. After all, we are consuming what must be the nation’s most expensive protein at the moment.

The chickens (a new flock last year) have laid well all winter, and spring sees an uptick in production. They eat table scraps, garden weeds, and non-GMO organic feed and it is extraordinary to think what a dozen of their premium protein pods would cost us at the store. Last night my husband went to the storage fridge packed with eggs and said he felt we must be doing something illegal. But when a raccoon can wipe out your golden geese overnight, and eggs store so well, it makes sense to hold on to them.

April is an unpredictable month, but in its gentler moments there is nothing like it. So many miracles each day to witness – so much awakening and joy. There is work, of course, but taken in small doses it is wonderful.

If you’re not into small doses, and you’ve planted too many seedlings (you have), please take a few pictures of your leftovers and post them online for the benefit of fellow local gardeners like myself who just wiped out an entire flat of tomato seedlings by leaving the greenhouse open last night. Ahh fickle April.