It is cold, we have reached the minus temperatures at night and the barely above freezing temperatures during the day.
I know, I know: what we think of as cold here in the mild East Midlands of the UK is not what is experienced in colder climes, but for us it is cold. For us it is the sort of temperature that is referred to as 'too cold to snow'*. It is well known that it has to warm up a bit for snow to fall and as I am sure I have said previously, I usually expect snow from the third week of January to mid February. Of course it can happen before and after that period, but my garden journal tells me that is usually when we get the most snow.
In the meantime the garden is frozen solid but at least we have had some sun, some much needed sun. The garden was saturated so now it is frozen mud, but it is not raining (hurrah) and it is brighter (hurrah hurrah). January and February can be such grey months that getting through them can feel like wading through porridge. We are rocketing towards 'Blue Monday' when allegedly a lot of people start to really feel the impact of returning to work following the Christmas break and just the general build of so many dark nights, short days and winter rain and cold. We have certainly had our share of winter rain so far this season!
Getting through these wintery cold days when gardening is not possible is really hard. I can wander the garden and see what is developing, how the snowdrops are coming along and the start of the winter blossoms opening. This is good, this all helps.
I sing(rap??) (badly, I only know the chorus) Ice Ice Baby (Vanilla Ice) as I listen to my crackly steps around the garden. I sing (badly, I only know the chorus) Baby its Cold Outside (Frank Loesser) as I don my woolly hat and gloves as I go out for a walk. The cats, snuggled in their favourite sleeping places, disapprove of such singing. They mutter things like 'and they accuse us of caterwauling' and nurse their grudges briefly before sleep overtakes them again.
I enjoy the winter garden, for all the weather's cold and grey, the garden is what keeps me going. The joy of seeing bulbs emerge and watching the buds on the trees start to develop: all give hope that spring will arrive. The seasons take their turns and have their own reason and beauty. So bring it on Blue Monday, I am not going to say I will not feel blue but I will know that the day after is nameless Tuesday and then there is nameless Wednesday and so on. Day follows day, week follows week and whilst I have no idea what is waiting for me in those days I know that the garden is there to support me. Thank (insert deity of choice) for that.
*and don't give me that 'it snows in the arctic at -40 nonsense, different rules apply.
Take care and be kind.
