A Cold and Frosty Morning …

As I write this the sun is streaming through the window and the fields are white with frost.  I knew December wouldn’t let me down – good riddance foggy November.  The run up to Christmas is now underway.  All presents bought, wrapping paper and cards are standing by, decorations need to be dragged out from under the stairs, foliage and berries need to be collected – other than that,  all is calm. 

"From December to March, there are for many of us three gardens -
the garden outdoors,
the garden of pots and bowls in the house,
and the garden of the mind's eye."
-   Katherine S. White

"I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December
A magical thing
And sweet to remember.

'We are nearer to Spring
Than we were in September,'
I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December."
-   Oliver Herford, I Heard a Bird Sing

"Yule, is when the dark half of the year relinquishes to the light half.   Starting the next morning at sunrise, the sun climbs just a little higher and stays a little longer in the sky each day.  Known as Solstice Night, or the longest night of the year, much celebration was to be had as the ancestors awaited the rebirth of the Oak King, the Sun King, the Giver of Life that warmed the frozen Earth and made her to bear forth from seeds protected through the fall and winter in her womb.  Bonfires were lit in the fields, and crops and trees were "wassailed" with toasts of spiced cider."
-   Yule Lore

Look how the rising sun has tinged the fields with pink

 

Neck well swathed in scarf,

hands plunged in pockets?

Collar pulled high,

hat tugged low?

Off you go, then, down the long slope

to where the pale winter sun never penetrates.

The frozen grass, glittering with reflected light,

crunches under your boots.

Run a hand along the fence to see a battalion of frost soldiers crumple.

Lick the cold particles from your fingers,

and take a long sniff of the freezing air,

pungent with bare earth and stone,

as dry and prickly as a holly leaf - the smell of winter,

down in the frost hollow.

Christoper Somerville

 

When the ice of winter holds the house in its rigid grip,

when curtains are drawn early against that vast frozen waste

of landscape,

almost like a hibernating hedgehog

I relish the security of being withdrawn from all that summer

ferment that is long since past.

Then is the time for re-appraisal: to spread out,

limp and receptive,

and let garden thoughts rise to the surface.

They emerge from some deep source of stillness

which the very fact of winter

has released.

Mirabel Osler

 

 

 

Hope everyone has a stress-free lead up to Christmas – there’s still loads of time to get everything done

 

 

And remember

'A lovely thing about Christmas is that it's compulsory, like a thunderstorm, and we all go through it together.'

• Author Garrison Keillor