Promise?

“There is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather”

John Ruskin – (1819-1900)

Actually, we have only had one kind of weather – wet weather! Naming storms only seems to compound the misery; when did Abigail become Barney, or Clodagh end and Desmond begin? Wind and rain has battered and beaten the garden into submission. Leaves abandoned the trees, cones the conifers, and petals the last few flowers to brave the elements. We wait for the promise of better weather…

Roses in December

“God gave us memories so that we might have roses in December”

J M Barrie (1860-1937)

Or when December’s roses are pale ghosts of their former selves; shaken and scorched by bitter wind and rain…

 Colourful Calendula

“Flowers seem intended for a solace of ordinary humanity…”

John Ruskin

Easing the drabness of constant overcast days, when sky and sea merge into one and all around is shrouded grey…

Reflection in a toadstool cup

Anything can become a receptacle for rain water, spent puffballs, plant trays, all filled with water, brimming with light and reflections.

And the weather man reminds us that it may have been an unusually warm year, but one with low light levels. The first week of November was so mild that the Cabbage palm burst into flower all over again. Nasturtium and Cosmos kept flowering vying to outdo each other until “the weather” came once more. Surrendering to the storms the garden stands cold, brown and wet; waiting for winter…

Still trying...

Some plants have never caught up, still trying to flower in wintry darkness. The first snowdrops push through the sodden ground, the promise of spring in dark days…

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