A cool winter’s afternoon and friend, in the garden.
Misty mornings, drizzly rains and refreshing clear mountain streams…
Today is my grand-daughter, Jasmine’s tenth birthday – I wish for her – a good road; a bejewelled road; a kind road; a healthy road; a joyous road; a peaceful road; a road filled with love, courage and confidence. May this road bring us all together again.
After months of sunless days, today we captured the sun.
Though the light fades and returns, the start of Spring is near.
White cat captures the moment.
And these cold-flowering rhododendrons are awash with crimson flowers and afternoon sun.
The mountain light subdues another remarkable day. We are captured by its
Did you see the blue moon, recently? It cast an eerie yet reassuring glow. We kept the curtains open all night to see the silver light – waking at times to gaze out into the calm night. The frosts here have returned and the stillness of winter is ever present. The silver theme continues. Over the past two weekends I have re-potted, replanted and generally swept up after the big winds, a few days ago. I have selected some new plantings for the vegetable garden – sadly no vegetables only flowering plants, at this stage. Colour is what I want now. The beans and garlic will have to wait and make way for violas. However, despite its frosts and distilled light, I am always happy with winter. The quiet and secret growth of winter and its calming stillness allows me to wander and appreciate this invigorating season. Tulips are growing and daffodils and jonquils will follow, despite the frost and snow flurries. “It snowed all week. Wheels and footsteps moved soundlessly on the streets as if the business of living continued secretly behind a pale but impenetrable curtain. “Truman Capote So, I continue, gloves and hats at the ready and happy for days of stillness and quiet. Enjoy your seasons, where ever you may be.
It’s time I went back into the garden. Our rambling garden is never too far from my thoughts even when I am away. However, despite its low light and chill, winter is a special season here. It was during this time we found this garden – glistening in the late afternoon, beckoning me. That was twelve years ago, in July.
During winter our mountain garden seems so still and silent. It sleeps, quietly now, nurturing its progeny. As the temperature drops and with the June winds abated, each garden bed is preparing to reveal its private secret.
The mid-winter garden is always remarkable – it is a profusion of colours. Tall, pale pink and scarlet camellias arching their flowers to the sun. Short squat ones caressing the ground. Oversized faces turning to catch the light. The slow emergence of bulbs – tulips, narcissus, daffodils and the garlic. Nodding hellebores are now making themselves known, their burnt summer leaves gone, replaced now by new, vivid, green serrations.
As the temperature drops, I can rely on three certainties in the garden: an abundance of colour, a stillness and peacefulness and, my favourite, winter rosella adorning the leaf-less trees. Mid-winter wonders, indeed.
As the temperature drops, I can rely on three certainties in the garden: an abundance of colour, a stillness and peacefulness and, my favourite, winter rosellas adorning the leaf-less trees. Mid-winter wonders, indeed.
Our stay on the island has ended but not without a dramatic twilight farewell. These sunsets mesmerized us as we gazed out to Horseshoe Bay. We marveled at the beauty, the russet colours and time, for us, stood still.
Sunsets herald a new day and celebrate our existence. We are grateful to have escaped the cold for a short time and now return to our mountain home. I hope you can find some time to stare out into your sunset afternoon.