FEBRUARY ALREADY

 As I sit here and listen to the roaring of the gale (the weather forecast said it would be a light breeze) and watch the big eucalyptus bending before the wind, I can see swathes of snowdrops extending up into the wood and under the big fallen tree.

The snowdrops are good and early. 

In fact the birds were singing this morning and on Sunday we saw and heard a song thrush over the fell in Kirkby - presumably decided not to go south for the winter any more.

Flowers are appearing - the quince is early and we have small irises in the lily tub.

I have still not cut back all the hydrangeas and they look good against the light.

So, there I was shifting fallen and hacked back ivy off the snowdrops when a twig caught my glasses and whisked them into the air - but where?

Of course I could not see them now and did not want to tread on them. Off to the car for the old spare pair and a search. I found a lens quite quickly but it was ten minutes before I espied the frame and other lens.

We are hoping to get to The Garden of Cosmic Speculation in the spring. (https://gardenofcosmicspeculation.com) - an amazing construction. (And nothing like here.)

Had a couple of bramblings by the feeders - winter visitors a bit like a chaffinch. Apart from that is is the usuals - tits, sparrows, finches, pigeons and pheasants and wandering blackbirds.

Sunday morning, heavy showers and another gale. I sit in the kitchen in a fog? fugue? phug? Well anyway I have zero inclination to go weeding etc.

But things are stirring - cyclamen pushing through the leaf litter, the clematis armandii beginning to flower and daffodils in bud.

From the pond the shapes of the shrubs in front of the house stand out like living sculptures.

I go out and come in again, quickly, the sheep in the back field stand backs to the gale and then a robin sings, hope ahead.

So Barry Cryer has left us and also left us with one last great joke - 

A man and his wife are out walking one day when they spot a lone fellow on the other side of the road.

“That looks like the Archbishop of Canterbury over there,” says the woman. “Go and see if it is.”

The husband crosses the road and asks the man if he is indeed the Archbishop of Canterbury.

“F— off,” says the man.

The husband crosses back to his wife, who asks, “What did he say? Is he the Archbishop of Canterbury?”

“He told me to f— off,” says the husband.

“Oh no,” replies the wife, “Now we’ll never know.”

LIFE IN THE OLD GARDEN

Yet! 

Here are some of the wildlife from the last month or so - we have also had many more including a badger visit.

RAT

Immature cock pheasant

Wood mice (long tailed field mouse)

Rabbits

Wood Pigeon

There is so much to do, put off because of the operation, but having said that, the limping man has just mown a chunk of lawn (can you have a chunk of lawn?).

Now to reds and yellows, red sky and euonymus elata - and yellows - Acer Sango-kaku and Rudbeckia Goldsturm -  

On some of the evergreen shrubs the greenery is reverting and will need the reverted bit cut out - when I get around to it. R continues to dead head and cut back and plant stuff, she has put endless bulbs under the white birches. I had not been down to that part of the garden for a while and was delighted to see the bark, even on the youngest trees, has now gone white.

And still it rains a lot giving so many grey days (the spot of yellow is a self-sown sunflower from the bird feeders.

 So as Boris the Cunning weaves his way through the politics of Brexit pretending to be a bumbling harmless chap (don't you believe it), Donald the Devious dodges impeachment if he can and Pugilistic Putin watches and smiles, I think I will have a cup of tea and a piece of shortbread.

And now I learn that Charles Jencks, co-founder of Maggie's cancer charity and designer of the Garden of Cosmic Speculation and Crawick Multiverse has died aged 80. 
The world is a poorer place.