An Instagram retrospective of November & December 2017
More than half way through winter, and in truth it’s been a little changeable. No snow here in this part of Kent and, in spite of a bitingly cold spell at the beginning of December, we’re currently experiencing a fairly typical mild, damp and soggy end to the year. On the plus side, this makes spending time gardening rather more pleasant than the typical wintery conditions of my imagination.
Casting my mind back to the first days of November, autumn was languidly drawing itself out, seemingly in no particular hurry, which was just fine by me.
Plenty of time to enjoy planting some more cyclamen (C. cycilium, hederifolium and coum in this garden), and admiring the mature specimens alongside accidental sympathetic planting. If you can ever refer to what the natural world gets up to as ‘accidental’.
There was an appearance of the most iconic mushroom...
...and plenty of golden sunshine, at the beginning of the day...
...as well as at the end.
But even on the dull days, the autumn light revealed details in the garden that made you want to stand and stare.
We got to enjoy the very last of the dahlias, sometimes left to expire gracefully in the borders...
...and sometimes rescued, just in time, from the ravages of wind and rain.
As the temperatures began to drop, the great Bringing In of the Pelargoniums began. An event which always fills me with dread, as I’ve not got a great record for nursing tender plants through the winter. Everything is still crossed...
The leaves seemed reluctant to fall this year, drawing out the annual task of shepherding them into bags and compost bins, there to break down in time to lovely crumbly soil conditioner. At the time, I thought this was a good thing, as it allowed me time to continue working in the beds, weeding and cutting back etc. But on balance, I don’t think it really made much difference to the position we’re in at the end of the year – everything that got needed to get done still got done (well, almost everything), but the variety in autumnal routine was welcome.
And just to break it up, there weren’t just leaves in the garden to photograph.
One month before Christmas (time really flying now, must be age), Great Dixter held its Christmas Plant Fair – a great excuse to wander through the gardens just after they’ve closed for the winter, as well as making the most of all the wonderful crafts and nurseries who’ve turned up to make the event such a success.
Back at home, I was pleased to discover a flower still on my chocolate cosmos...
...but inevitably, as the temperatures fall and the light levels fade, attention begins to turn increasingly to the indoor jungle.
And all the more suddenly, for its long, relaxed visit this year, autumn is on its way.
December brings a slight frost, and a bleaker prospect. Hello winter.
As ever, we counter the dark with green.
And a touch of blood red makes its jewelled presence felt. Quite literally, prompting language more Anglo Saxon than horticulturally Latin.
Though its always worth noting that some initially prickly customers can be a little more mellow upon closer examination.
I do get a bit jealous when other parts of the country get snow. In the full knowledge that really, it’s a huge pain, and can be dangerous, there’s still the childish wonder of the pristine white blanket across the countryside. But there’s no time to stop, not just yet anyway.
Though I do allow myself a moment’s reflection while pruning a favourite shrub .
Suddenly, the temperature plummets, bringing with it clear skies and amazing sunrises.
And before you know it, a key date in the gardener’s calendar arrives – the winter solstice, end of the darkening nights. The older I get, the more I begin to see this as the main event over these festive weeks, a true cause for celebration.
But then there’s Christmas, time of traditions (though none as old as Christmas would have you believe). For us, it’s historically been a day spent mostly chuntering away on motorways, so sparkly lights and the dear faces of family are a welcome treat. And of course, a kiss under the poo-on-a-stick.
I'd love to hear how the last two months of 2017 have been in your garden. Let me know on twitter, or in the comments below. And a happy new year to you and all you love – thank you for reading and supporting Gardens, Weeds & Words throughout 2017, please come back next year!