Snowdrops in the rain

I am no galanthophile but the sight of a bank of these dear little white blossoms does indeed lift the spirits, which at this bleak time of year are much in need of lifting.  The sun was shining as we stirred this morning, so a plan to seek out some snowdrops was hatched and we headed for Brockhill Park; a truly splendid country park only a very short drive up the hill.  The car park was quite empty as we arrived, just a few hardy joggers preparing to outshine us in the fitness stakes, and after resolving our lack of suitable coinage we duly displayed our ticket and set off. The sky was varying from blue and sunny to grey and brooding by the minute, and it seemed that within just a few seconds the heavens began to open.  We carried on, having only just fed the car park machine we wanted to get our money's worth, but sense made us take shelter under a very dense holm oak until the worst of the rain had passed.  It wasn't long before we could carry on along the path and down to the lake.

Like the rest of the country, we in the southeast have had a lot of wet weather recently and the ground was very soggy so care had to be taken as we descended the slope.  Younger, more adventurous visitors behind us took the shortcut across the grass and suffered the hilarious consequence of going over to much laughter and lots of shrieking.

We took the easy option of circumnavigating the lake, along the designated path, to enjoy the splendid sight of clump after clump of snowdrops all now glistening with drops of fresh rain making them almost iridescent.  My photos don't do them enough justice really, but I think go some way to illustrate the prevailing conditions.

It was an excellent time to be in the park since we were almost entirely alone.  The sky continued to change  by the minute with scudding clouds giving way to bright blue and warm sun, then back to being grey and heavy again.  While the sun shone it was tempting to think that winter has gone, but, of course we know different.  However, while it did shine we enjoyed it and soaked up its warmth while looking at the flowers down on the ground, and the catkins waving in the high branches.

We had only just got home and removed our muddy boots before the rain turned briefly to sleet so we congratulated ourselves on our early start and having avoided the worst of the weather.

Our own garden is still in full wintry mode with just a few hints of what's to come.  A few hellebores have started to flower and we have several clumps of those long stemmed plants that look like snowdrops but are as tall as narcissi, I believe them to be Spring Snowflakes or Leucojum Vernum.  We also have just a couple of proper snowdrops which were already here in the garden, so I can take no credit for them.  Along with these we have primroses which flower abundantly in the south facing front borders, and some bergenia.  None of these are down to me, but we enjoy their beauty and thank the previous owners for their input daily.

January went by in quite a rush; we enjoyed several social events that seemed to extend the festive season well into the new year.  I spent many hours absorbed in various crafty projects too; a complicated knitted jumper, started on Christmas Day evening and finished on 22nd January; a crocheted cowl, a knitted one too, a bobble hat (for next year's charity gift boxes - it's never too soon to start!) and some secret crochet gifts ready for Easter.  Emma Mitchell's excellent book 'Making Winter' has been inspirational as have the blogs attic24 and talesfromahappyhouse both of which I follow for hints, tips and ideas.  And now, with a Valentine's Day special outing planned, a new art project to work on and more crochet I can only believe February will be just as enjoyable and by its end we will definitely be able to know that spring is just around the corner.

I first heard The January Man performed by the Albion Christmas Band and each year at this time I play it often, here's the first verse:

Oh the January man he walks abroad in woolen coat and boots of leather

The February man still wipes the snow from off his hair and blows his hand

The man of March he sees the Spring and wonders what the year will bring

And hopes for better weather.

Don't we all?

Happy Happy New Year to one and all!

Five years or so ago I signed off from this little blog space in a somewhat downbeat manner having just experienced what I felt was a rather lacklustre response to our second open gardens event in Sandgate.  I expressed my wish for things to change, for pastures new even.  The intervening years have indeed brought many changes to our lives, some good, some not, and it's at this time of year that one traditionally reflects on what has gone before in order to plan ahead.  So I feel a brief resume of these missing five years might be appropriate; in short we've moved, twice!  The whys and wherefores are not really of interest to anyone else, suffice to say, country living, even semi rural, is not for us, and we are now settled in our forever home.

Just a couple of miles along the coast from our house and garden in Sandgate, our new (well newish now, we've been here eighteen months) home provides all we need, including a garden that is both challenging and interesting, at least to us.  The estate agent's blurb described the house as having 'once landscaped gardens' and, as we have discovered over the last season, these must indeed have been glorious.  We moved in during the late summer of 2016 having had much work done to make the house comfortable for us.  Part of this refurbishment was to have tree surgery to several mature trees in both the front and back gardens.  This was both terrifying and exciting in equal measure as the  trees in question were very large having grown for fifty years or so seemingly unchecked.  While they were good, healthy in most part, specimens they had clearly outgrown the space allotted to them and showed some signs of decay.  An arborist and the council agreed they should go.  After three or four days of loud, hot and messy work, we were left with piles of bark chippings, some rather ugly    stumps, and a feeling that we'd rather nuked the garden.  However, the upside was amazing since we now have clear views across the town to the sea from all the front windows, and the neighbours behind have improved views too.

Many aspects of our lives have altered since I last blogged but one constant that remains with me is my love of the garden, not just ours but 'the garden' in its widest sense and with that in mind I intend to rekindle this blog to record any changes we make to our garden, to log any visits we may make to other gardens and to document our time here.

Today has been grey, wet and mostly very wintry although an amazing sunset gave the most glorious light through the house for a few minutes just now.  Earlier, in a bid to shake off the New Year lethargy I took a short stroll around the lanes near us, returning via the front garden to take some pictures, specifically with this post in mind.  The pictures are not good, so I will spare you the pain of viewing them however, there is promise already in the borders with one hellebore, primroses and bergenia in flower along with lots of spring bulb leaves pushing their noses through the soil.  Now, since we're  past the shortest day we can look forward to the garden coming back to life, so watch this space for updates.  Happy 2018!