If you look around you now, at scrub and thickets on your perambulations around the city or countryside, wherever you may roam, you will see that this is the time for hazel catkins. They hang from bare branches in the low light, the morning is still so dark, the evening light lasting a little longer each day. For many, hazel flower is something that typifies this early time of year, a welcome messenger of the movement of the seasons. (more…)
It’s been very dark and very wet lately, like, very dark. I’ve just come in from cutting back mistletoe and the rain began falling heavily, completely in line with the yellow weather warning for rain that the Met Office put in place. I thought, dark, wet, and cutting mistletoe, what can be more midwinter than that; there was a robin hopping around nearby as well just to add some festive card chic to the occasion. Throughout human history here in the northern hemisphere, getting to, and past, midwinter has been something to celebrate, and we’ve made it to another one. It won’t be long until the signposts out of winter begin to appear. (more…)
The other day, I was walking through the Garden as a very heavy shower of rain had just finished. The landscape around me seemed to be looking up disgruntled, rainwater dripping down waterproofs, running down the path, off branches and twigs. Then the sun came out. The dark clouds carrying the rain were moving away behind me and the low January sun shone in my face. I stopped; between me and the sun were three low trees, and as the sun’s light travelled through them to me, the recent water glowed. It looked like the tree was made of water, so recently had the shower passed; I’d never really seen anything like it, and it reminded me to keep looking, even in darkest January, keep looking, otherwise we don’t see. This is the same with January and early February flower, they’re there, but we have to look. (more…)
