After the tribulations of 2020 we are all entering into 2021 with a mixture of hope and caution. The garden at this time of year perfectly reflects this sometimes contradictory combination. January often has the worst weather of the year and the days are still cripplingly short in this part of the world. But the light is slowly - very slowly - stretching out the days and by the end of the month I can still see to garden at 5pm whereas in the middle of December there is not much much light past 4 o clock on a cloudy afternoon.
Read MoreI know that there are those that find February the cruellest month- the straw that breaks winter’s back - but I love it. Regardless of the weather or the state of the garden, Spring is coming and the days that hang so heavy in the weeks up to Christmas, are getting lighter in weight as well as day length.
Read MoreWhereas I have a real sense in November and December of the year folding in on itself and the garden at best retreating but more often cowering from the lack of light, January always brings with it a slow unfurling. There may be – there usually is – snow and ice to come but that is a temporary inconvenience. The progression is unstoppably forward. But gently.
Read MoreNovember 2019 was one of the wettest months for a very long time. The fields around the garden remained flooded all month and as the rain increased or backed off, the flood waters rose and fell into the garden like a tide. We have known this before and accept it as part of our winter weather but it makes gardening difficult and, at times, frankly unpleasant.
Read MoreI know that many people find February a difficult month. Winter had gone on too long and Spring seems too far. But I like February. I like the way that it opens out and releases the valves for Spring. I like the way that the days reach out, stretching, limbering up.
Read MoreThere is a hawthorn in the boundary hedge of my garden. It is a scrubby affair, not much more than a bush really, but every mid-January the sun lingers just over the top of it before dipping down over the horizon across the fields.
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