After weeks of dodging rain showers as we tried to focus on jobs around the garden, enduring the frustration of starting one job then rushing inside to avoid getting soaked, suddenly it has dried out. Cloud covers the sky and the wind blows as before but nothing falls on us. Bravely we venture outside, where we stay until late in the day, wearing ourselves out with all the vegetation wrestling. I acquire a battery powered hedge trimmer which I find makes cutting back the shrubs a lot easier and given the mountainous nature of our front garden I decide to call this my cliff edge trimmer. As a result of all our hard work some parts of the garden are even starting to acquire a 'cared for' look they haven't had for many years.
Then suddenly winter arrives. (Nobody saw that coming!) Something we know as the Jetstream decides to do an unusual wriggle, the result of which is to pour cold northerly winds over Britain. Then, since said Jetstream apparently finds this rather pleasant, it maintains this for weeks on end. It makes us reach for our warm underwear, put on thick socks, wrap scarves around our necks, and that before we even think about going outside. Our garden has turned white with frost and walking about on what was previously sodden grass is suddenly like walking on concrete. Gardening in the conventional sense has become impossible but since there is now an enormous heap of plant matter which was dry enough to be processed in some way, turned into something usable perhaps, this calls for a new strategy.
The next phase of our existence makes use of the limited hours between the sun rising high enough over the hills opposite for its rays to make their way through our windows, giving us the motivation for venturing out, and the early afternoon when the same star disappears in the west for the day and the thermometer creeps below zero again. For me this involves dressing up in multiple layers, over which goes my boiler suit and then a fleecy work jacket, a close fitting hat and my Wellington boots, the latter not so much to keep out water but to keep in the warmth. Thick leather gloves complete this outfit, protection from both the cold and the thorns I am destined to do battle with. Dressed like this I go to war with the plant heap, the aim being to convert it into something of value, maybe something to keep us warm. Hidden in this heap are the branches of long lost trees which once grew in our garden which had previously been thrown over our rear boundary and piled up, threatening the stability of the fence itself. But this is wood, and once the smaller twigs are removed we are left with logs that when cut up and left to dry out, we can burn as fuel to heat the house. The trimmings from our various overgrown garden shrubs meet a different end. These are turned into 'shreddies' by passing them through a garden mincing machine (one of two we now possess) and then spread over our newly cleared areas as a top dressing. And the best part of all this activity is that it keeps me warm in the biting cold outside, a warmth that lasts all day.
The bitter cold does bring something with it, of course - sunshine. Solstice is only days away but just before 10am each day the sun pops up over the hill opposite and blasts down from a cloudless sky all day. It has little effect on the temperature outside but in our south facing conservatory, surrounded on all sides by glass, the temperature rises steadily until it becomes warmer in there than in the house itself. This is an unexpected bonus for us. We can only imagine how hot this is going to become in the summer months. Perhaps a small sauna is appropriate.
One person who must know all about this is Santa Claus but despite this he comes early, with flashing lights from the fire engine which accompanies him as he rides past our house and several blasts from the siren as we wave at him. We are honoured to be blessed with his visit and very excited to see him.
