After a hard winter there is often an abundance of fruit blossom. Hedges everywhere were thick with Blackthorn in April and my Victoria Plum tree was covered with flowers in early May. The trees in my little orchard – Bramley, Russet and James Grieve are covered in shell pink. I noticed the odd bumble bee working late into the evening gathering nectar and pollen.

There have been a number of frosty nights and before that cold winds to inhibit pollinating insects. I am becoming quite neurotic about cold dry Springs. Will we get a lovely crop of English Damson this year? They make a very special jam of unrivaled sharpness.

Now is the time to spot wild Crab-apple blossom in the hedgerows (puff balls of pink against a dark green background) and preferably before the May blossom comes into bloom. Then it is difficult to work out which is which at a glance.

I have found that Crab-apple trees fruit on a bi-annual basis producing large quantities per tree one year (my record is 400lbs!) and absolutely nothing the next. Traveling the countryside in May I make a note of trees in bloom then visit again in October to see which have set a crop. The mouth drying sharpness of Wild Crab-apples makes then especially suitable for jelly – the perfect partner to scones and cream or to eat with pork.

At dusk I notice the Wild Cherry trees (Gean) are almost luminous in the darkness and the air is heavy with the sickly sweet scent of May Blossom. Spring has arrived at last.

May 14th

I recently became a member of the Bumble Bee Conservation Trust (BBCT) and this year determined to plant more Bumble-Bee-friendly plants in my garden. They have included Vipers Bugloss, Greater Napweed, Birdsfoot Trefoil, and Wild Foxglove.

I am standing in a subterranean world – dark, cold and damp. The blackened roof timbers above me are beaded with moisture and so low in places it is impossible to stand upright.

To my left ‘the tunnel’ I have just navigated to get here – its base no more than two feet wide, the trodden earth generously sprinkled with sawdust especially for my visit. To my right and in front of me, stretching into what seems infinity in the impenetrable darkness, are thousands of rhubarb stems, ruby red by the light of my torch. Each one is topped with a spear-shaped acid green leaf which feels like plastic to the touch.

It all seems eerie and other-worldy, a legacy of a former century, which indeed it is. A strange and unique ritual more suited to another place and time. Beyond this dark and silent world I can hear the muffled drone of motorway traffic on the outskirts of Wakefield where 21^st century life goes on apace.

Then my private reverie is broken by the no-nonsense voice of my companion, David Westwood (veteran rhubarb grower of over forty years, as was his father before him) explaining the principles of forced rhubarb growing and the value of this the strangest of horticultural rituals.

As one of David’s employees demonstrates the correct way to pull rhubarb (by the light of a guttering candle held aloft by a wrought iron spike) I consider how traditional skills, combined with modern innovation, achieve the perfect product.

We retrace our steps through the old wooden sheds and emerge into the bright light of a chilly March day. Just a few metres further and we are in the modern pack house. The contract seems quite bizarre – light, bright, clean and airy with a team of people trimming and packing the freshly picked stems.

Hopefully continued demand for this wonderful Yorkshire forced rhubarb will ensure these unique horticultural methods survive for many generations to come.

We have Rhubarb and Ginger Jam and Rhubarb and Orange Jam made from David’s forced rhubarb each year from mid January to mid March.

February has come and gone, and with it my plan to visit the rhubarb sheds of West Yorkshire. As it turns out, it would have been a celebratory trip this year, because the twelve remaining growers in the “Rhubarb Triangle” have gained Protected Designation of Origin classification from the EU for their Yorkshire Forced Rhubarb. Joining the ranks of international high flyers, such as Champagne, Roquefort Cheese and Parma Ham, the growers can be  justly proud of their achievement and their wonderful product.

I imagine a visit to the warm, dark forcing sheds would be a surreal experience - hundreds of rhubarb stems, ramrod straight, pushing upwards in the impenetrable darkness, broken only by the gentle glow of candlelight during harvesting.

Here in the Rosebud kitchen, the ruby-red stems lend an exotic vibrancy to February mornings. Sweet-sharp and tender, they make the most delicious Rhubarb & Ginger Jam, and more unusually, Rhubarb & Orange Jam, a great alternative to marmalade; then, at the weekend, a sublime rhubarb crumble for my family.

Three cheers for Yorkshire Forced Rhubarb, and our thanks to David and Jonathan Westwood who have provided us with their beautiful product for over twenty years.

It has been a memorable January. Very little on the shelves after a busy Christmas and now a large order to fulfil for our American Importer.

Many days bring fresh falls of snow followed by bitterly cold nights. Our staff are understandably nervous about driving to work along country lanes that haven’t seen a gritter. Some come on foot. It is difficult to get supplies in and jars out under these conditions but the delivery drivers are so helpful and uncomplaining – seems ‘the white stuff’ has brought the best out in all of us!

Each day when the snow is thick I take our big dog for brisk walks over fields towards the dark shape of a conifer plantation. There are the tell tale signs of barked wood where rabbits have searched desperately for food.

Back in a warm kitchen the air is filled with the scent of Seville Oranges and every available receptacle too! We have several tonnes to wash and freeze.

With the help of a miracle, or so it seems, our American friends get their Mint Jelly.