There is the briefest moment towards the end of winter when the garden seems to hold its breath. I think it was today. The wind has switched from an icy easterly to a westerly gale and the snow has melted away as fast as it arrived. The garden feels as if it is waiting.
To the urban eye, the garden probably looks exactly as it did in early December when we decided to down tools and leave it be. The tree branches are bare, the grasses blond and crackle-dry and the cleared borders are brown deserts of soil with the occasional mound of stoic green foliage.
But if you know where to look, the garden is utterly changed from those pre-solstice weeks, when the sap was recoiling from the hardening winter. The outlines of trees are now laced with slender buds slowly filling with sap, on hold for the moment when their internal clock decides the time has come. Clumps of hardy geraniums are showing the faintest hint of red and pink at the tips of firm shoots. Spears of Allium and Tulip shoots are pushing up warily through the frost-cracked soil.
There are more obvious signs of course: snowdrops and hellebores are dotted here and there in the garden, and the witch hazels are at their prime. But these are natural winter lovers and will do their thing regardless. For me, it’s those first stirrings of the true spring and summer plants which promise me a summer.
There will be time enough ahead to enjoy spring’s early treasures. So, while the garden is quietly waiting, we’ll take a quick look back at the winter’s best moments. I haven’t photoshopped these to take out the colour, but I hadn’t realised until I posted these here quite how monochrome our winter garden is.
The Canal Border, newly planted in March 2012 looking soft and sepia-toned on a frosty January morning. We’ll cut back the grasses in early March.
Phlomis russeliana is surely the finest herbaceous perennial for winter form. Wonderful in close-up……and glorious in a clump too – shown here through the frosted strands of Stipa tenuissima.
I love this Aster best when fringed with frost.
We had an unbroken week of frosts before the snow came, settling quietly in the night.
I find this the best of times to see where the garden needs structural change – the snow brings clarity. I have a plan for this area now…
I love the way the fine, all night snow has picked out every tiny twig on this contorted hazel. A blue sky behind would have been too much to ask, I guess.
And then, as fast as it fell, the snow melted away in sunshine and warm air, blown in on gentle south-west winds, laden with heat straight from the Azores. For one glorious day the nursery sang with the sound of dripping and slipping as great sheets of snow slid off the polytunnels, trickled into the gutters and ran down the track to the stream.
It was pretty while it lasted. There may well be more to come. But the days are lengthening fast and my first delivery of bare root plants will be here in ten days. So, it’s time for me and the garden to wake up and get started.
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