Lonely days ahead...

The wind has turned and the cold North wind blows through the trees, suddenly reminded of winters close proximity.The still green leaves pass quickly through copper and gold to rich brown. Flurries of leaves dance across the garden, a deep, crisp, carpet; a satisfying crunch underfoot…

Now the first frost arrives; a flurry of snow, with a bitterly cold wind coaxing, cajoling, withering, drying, prying the leaves from the trees. The garden is alive with hungry birds; a bevvy of blackbirds, a flurry of goldcrests, goldfinch, and a tattle of tits. The hawthorn trees are soon stripped of the haws, the lichen and moss probed for over-wintering insects. No sooner are the feeders filled before the arguments start, the dunnocks and robins content to gather from the ground. Flossy loiters beneath them too hoping for an easy treat….

Even so, the cold dark ground sends forth shoots, the first snowdrops piercing the sunless soil. A few last flowers burst into bloom, calendula golden in the weak sunlight, roses in November and pink lilies. First long winter rains and the little burn rushes by, carrying a flotilla of beech leaves toward the sea on a rush of white water. Three white swans fly overhead and the curlew calls from the field, a sure sign the season is turning.

Inula seed heads

Stark against the muted sky, seed heads offered up to foraging finches, sunflowers submitting to the cold and rain. Dahlias never to flower need dug out and stored, but the moss-lined baskets of viola and cyclamen cheerily open new flowers, sparkling in the evening sun.

Firelight and lamplight, soup and fresh bread, casserole and stew, winter food to feed the body. Poetry, music, reading, writing, time for the soul. Times for reflection and planning and dreaming of next years summer garden. Of being organised and having an orderly garden! Aye, right! πŸ˜€

Have a good day, thanks for stopping by!

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