Through the Window

After the lovely snow came the pouring rain. The path up the garden became a sort of river, the lawn was full of ponds and I couldn't go out for fear of compacting it all. 

I sat for a miserable hour peering through the rain-streaked window, trying to count birds for the Big Garden Birdwatch and, although I know there are blackbirds, robins, wrens, sparrows and tits of several kinds, did any of them appear? No - I counted one wood pigeon and a magpie. Luckily my neighbour also decided to do the Watch and counted lots of birds, so I didn't feel so badly about it. 

sparrow carrying downy feather

But all is not dismal. The snow has triggered lots of activity. If I peer through the raindrops on the window I can see many  preparations and signs of Spring. One of these really surprised me: a sparrow in the privet hedge with the softest of white feathers in its beak. And the same day two crows were cleaning out the big  nest they built last year when their nesting tree was cut down. 

Crow's nest ready for refurbishment

But I shouldn't have been surprised because signs of spring are all around. The tiniest bulbs can stand out remarkably under flowerless trees and shrubs and even amongst rough grass,of which there is rather a lot because I wasn't able to do any mowing last year. There are the snowdrops, of course, now springing up all over the place, their whiteness visible right up at the end of the garden.  The early pale purple crocuses under the apple tree have combined with some deep purple crocuses and are all over the lawn. One particular little clump combines with the aconites to great effect. 

              Pale early crocus                                                                                       Christmas rose

The hellebores both dark and pale are great, but I'd forgotten I put in a Christmas Rose (Helleborus niger) last year, whose flowers are whiter and a bit bigger. When I lived in the North of Scotland they used to be the first to flower and could be picked  out of the snow for Christmas displays. 

The teeny wild Cyclamen coum, has an even smaller flower than the autumn Cyclamen hederifolium. I have a white patch and a bright pink patch and in spite of their tiny size, they really stand out. 

                                                  Red and white cyclamen coum

There are one or two  primroses out already, although they look a bit ragged because something eats the flowers so early in the year -  I've never discovered what. But I know that soon they will be growing everywhere because they really like it here and whatever is eating them will have more choice and leave them alone. 

Slightly moth-eaten primrose

Shrubwise, the Viburnum tinus is proudly displaying its pink flowers and black berries all at the same time,  the witch hazel is putting out its little spidery bright yellow flowers and the winter honeysuckle is still flowering over the metal arch and smells wonderful when you walk under it. Then I have a small-flowered camellia in a pot which flowers early, generously and for ages - that now has its first flowers. 

Witch hazel 

Climate change: this garden is being 'wilded' partly with an eye to planet disaster, and a belief that all our individual gardens over the whole country can together provide sanctuary for wildlife suffering from the impoverishment of the land in general. I've started watching the series of  online Climate Talks  organised by the Science Museum Group.  The first, Climate Change: Why Should we Care? took place on 21 January with a panel of four including Dr Jane Goodall. I found it unmissable. It is available to watch for one month until the next talk. To find out more go to www.sciencemuseum.org.uk