WAITING FOR 2021

Why start with a sundial?

Well it is a change from rain, sleet and a smattering of snow. The autumn fruiting raspberries have arrived and have been put in next to the rhubarb bed. R has made our Christmas wreath and it is hanging by the outside door. The path down the garden is dangerous being hoggin covered in moss - needs a good scrape - which our gardener has done today.

The garden is in winter clothes, low light, cool damp air and wet grass. Mornings are sometimes foggy and the air is still (when it is not raining.) I must get out of the habit of paddling about in the muddy grass in my ordinary shoes, put on my wellies.

The mallard drake is back on the pond but no sign of a duck yet.

Down on the town canal the mute swans have been dying of avian flu, a real tragedy. It even made the national news.

Small things light up the garden especially the white honesty seed heads - in fact they have self seeded into the horse paddock next door.

Whilst the gardener was scoping the path I applied Ariel biological washing powder to the moss on the tarmac - it seems to do the trick.

There are still odd flowers around, roses and fatsia, a few creeping campanulas, nasturtiums and calendulas but not a lot.

Buds are fattening in preparation for next year - the magnolia stellata, azaleas and camellias particularly obvious.

I have started on the big bed, pruned the roses and removed some of the forgetmenots - they have been replanted to edge the paving outside the extension. Then manure and compost has been barrowed and spread.

This blog is a bit late what with short days, some sort of virus around, Brexit, not to mentions recovering from a colonoscopy (had a bit of a bum time!).

R is making mince pies and feeding the Christmas cake with booze.

Friday afternoon and it has rained all morning. Now it has paused. I 

walk down to the gate with the rubbish and the air is still, but filled with the sound of rushing water, in the beck, in our stream. The sheep are ghosts in the back field, long ago having given up avoiding the rain. Anyway their fleeces, though wet on the outside, keep them dry inside. Not a bird call cracks the silence, even the rooks are gone somewhere else.

Everywhere the daffodils are through, some standing eight inches tall though no buds are yet evident.

2021? Well it cannot be as bad as 2020 - can it?