TIME TO HIBERNATE

How I wish for hibernation.

Every time I walk the garden in this dark cold winter weather I find another shrub flattened, more branches down. We had some snow and rooks gathered by the cattle grid looking for food. The collective nouns for rooks are interesting - building, parliament, clamour and storytelling. I like the last best.

The snow flattened the monster geranium by the kitchen door. I call it that because it looks like a giant octopus. However come the thaw it perked up and its arms are more erect now. All around it are the tops of snowdrops exploring life above ground.

Not much flowering now - just the odd rose.

It is interesting to note that several of the fallen trees and shrubs are those with ivy making them top heavy. The big tree had this as did an elder. The trouble with elder is that the branches are brittle. I am not able to sit on the seat in the top garden as a leaning willow now obstructs me.

And we have had rain - snow goes, rain comes filling the stream and bursting forth unexpectedly in new springs.

This does not deter the heron who has returned to forage for amphibians in the pond - frogs, newts, toads.

R went off to a wreath making do with friends so we now have a Christmas wreath. I am a bit of an old misery re Christmas - do not mind it but the palaver over it, starting in October is a bit much, and if I hear Brenda Lee singing Rocking Around the Christmas Tree again . . !

S the gardener is coming and I think he has no idea what lies in wait. Not just dealing with fallen trees and shrubs but the Rambling Rector rose over the flowering currant has been blown onto its side, the trellis by the shed is collapsed and the climbing rose, clematis montana and Lonicera halliana will have to be hard cut back before reconstruction.

And it is Monday.

And tomorrow storm Barra arrives.

And it is Tuesday, rain lashed the windows and loud the wind howls, loud the wind roars but no thunderclaps rend the air at least. So I plan but do not do. Feed birds, get in logs, wash the kitchen floor. A burst of sunlight, then it is gone.e lawn - sigh! Now the trees will have shed a new load of sticks onto the lawn. As yet we do not have dead trees like this one and if we had it would be flat on the ground, but with the ash dieback it can only be a matter of time. Next door has called in a tree surgeon to look at the great big sycamore as they are afraid it might fall on the horses' stables and they might want to cut the top off it. Sacrilege! It is a notable tree registered with the Woodland Trust and anyway I do not think it would reach that far should it fall - and it has withstood the recent storms.

In the USA the fires have been threatening the giant redwood groves, 

it would be another disaster if they were to go.

JUST VISITING

Somewhere around four thousand years ago

the Great Bonsai was born of flame:

a seed fell two hundred feet onto charred earth

and germinated.

As time turned, the tree grew - massive, magnificent, 

though not the tallest. Man came, felled other timber 

but the huge trunks shattered when they dropped,

became useless.

Then, John from Dunbar spoke fire for the sequoia,

saved those pillars that held the high Sierra sky,

stopped that blue cathedral roof from falling,

being desecrated.

And now we can stand, heads back,

and stare up at its many immense limbs,

and gaze into the forest canopy at its crown

and wonder.

And I am here, and I am gone,

seventy or more rings of the Great Bonsai

if I am lucky, of no roots, born of a different fire,

just visiting.