THERE IS LIFE IN THE OLD GARDEN YET

This is the Nook in winter from the beech hedge -

The grass is a bit long because it rained so much in October I decided to let it grow rather than chew it up with the mower. It means it may take an extra mow in spring to reduce the height but that is preferable to chewing it all up. As you can see there still some leaves - usually the buddleia keeps them till the big prune at the end of February.

We have one glorious yellow rose in bloom near the cold frame and I am saving it for the Christmas table. Most years I can get a posy from the garden to squeeze between the dishes and crackers.

I have included a spattering of flowers in this blog - photographs taken this week.
This reminds me that I had a clue in the crossword yesterday and the answer was spatterdash - from which we got the word spats - trouser protectors - I do not know why I am mentioning this as it is completely irrelevant to  garden blog  - or anything else.
I have crossed everything in the hope that the amaryllis will be out for the main day. They are in bud. The potted hyacinths are a disappointment and will not flower until mid January at the earliest - probably something I did wrong. (Often something I did wrong.)

I still have a bowl of corks - actually S, a friend, gave us a mat of corks for use as something to put hot dishes on. So, I have the mat, and I still have the corks. Soon I will have enough to make a cork boolie.
I know - I hear you - what is a boolie?
It is a floatation device for swimming - when we were young we used inflated tyre inner tubes. I am wandering again and have not had a drop.

That poem of Robert Browning needs modification - 'Oh to be in La Gomera, Bequia, Fiji, now that winter's here . . . etc' - even to be in a jacuzzi, even a hot bath, a warm bed.

Just been down the garden and noticed the pink top of rhubarb through the manure. I am suffering from a dose of trepidation. I am worried that this mild winter is going to turn vicious.

So, woolly socks on, feed the birds, drink the cappuccino, warm the cockles, light the fire, complain to the Council that they have not refilled the salt bin on the lane - and wish everyone a wonderful Christmas, Solstice, New Year and such.