This post was supposed to be about the glorious Thurgau apricot blossoms. In news which may not surprise you, I have become / continue to be a little spring obsessed. I am doing regular rubber-necked drives past the nearby bulb farm to time my visit with maximum blumage. There’s a cherry blossom walk in Frick, a town not too far away, that I’ve been contacting a couple of times a week to make sure we capitalise on the eight day delicate pink flower window for our cherry farm hike. And there’s a tulip barometer on Mainau island just over the German border that I am watching with borderline mania. So when I heard about the apricot trees a few hours away, I rehearsed my best German to call Madame Bluescht, the keeper of the blossoms. It turns out her English was excellent (so I can’t blame translation) and she assured me that although the cherries and apples were yet to flower, the apricots were out all over the valley and were worth a visit. We were heading roughly that way anyway – Tim is currently in Sicily ‘working’, the lucky bugger – and we bundled the poor unknowing children into the car to allow me to get my weekend’s quota of oohs and aahs.

I’m not blaming the good Madame, and nor will I reflect on my own ability to cross check information, however there was nary an apricot bloom to be seen. There were hundreds of trees, laden with buds, that will be spectacular in a few weeks but obviously that didn’t deliver much happiness to a spring hungry mama and her two now confused and grumpy children (Sicily-bound Tim knew not to push his luck with any remonstrating, and kept sensibly quiet throughout the whole debacle).

Therefore, instead of the white froth of gorgeousness that is apricot trees flowing en mass in spring, I am pleased to bring you….garlic.

Naturally it’s not any old garlic. This enormous crop is bärlauch, or bear’s leek, which is available for a few weeks this time of year. I’ve bought it a few times at the market – it makes heavenly pesto and soup and risotto – but that was before I realised it was available for the taking if you don’t mind a bit of a walk in the forest.

Yesterday, a ridiculously perfect spring day in die Schwyz, saw a group of us doing this garlic-laden circular walk around the Walensee waterfall. It was an adventure packed day, starting with a terrifying one-way drive, which was timed to make sure no cars met en route as a total impasse would have been reached. As we finally pulled into the already packed parking area, several nails bitten down to the quick (ok, all of them belonging to me), we saw people mobilising for the day ahead. Hikers with their poles barged forward, a few carrying gear that implied an overnight stay was intended. Many people were laying rugs and eyeing off the hammock hung scenically towards the lake. A few people were setting out in canoes and one very brave couple was donning drysuits and tanks to explore the startlingly clear depths of the lake.

Much more prosaically, we got walking.

The track was broad and well maintained and easy to follow. It took us gently uphill – the two older toddlers managing the two kilometre climb admirably, pausing only occasionally for Easter-egg-banana-bread bribes. As we walked we spotted treasure chests along the way – a feature set up to keep kids entertained – as well as many spring delights for the flower loving mama in the crowd.

At the top of the hill the trail flattened out to a grassy plain. On one side, the waterfall:

and on the other, the lake.

We didn’t need much convincing to put down the rug and pull out the thermos. As we explored the area close to the waterfall, we could smell the garlic well before we’d registered what it was. As it turns out, I am totally into the aroma of stinky ol’ garlic but if it’s not your favourite treat, this is not the time of year for you. We were treated to one blooming tree – and to be fair, it’s a pretty good one, strategically placed across the lake with mountains in the background. But would you eat a pesto made from those flowers? I think not. Garlic, you’re my true spring love after all.