my photos

JANUARY

Good progress has been made in the garden this month.

With a lot of ivy pulling, cutting back and trips to the tip, the garden is looking much better for all our hard efforts.

My back is now killing me!



The top photo is Hawthorn.

The bare branches of the tree are noticably striking against the bright sunny skies we've been seeing this month, adding interest to the garden in Winter.

The photo above is Hazel.

I had been contemplating using it to join in with the Tree Year Project, but this along with the Hawthorn, are now in for a severe prune!

However, I shall be following Flighty over on his blog, as he watches his plot Hawthorn changing throughout the seasons, and Glo who is keeping a sharp eye on a Hazel.

In the meantime, I've signed the petition to Save England's Ancient Forests over on The Woodland Trust.



I've noticed too how the bare branches of Philadelphus are adding interest to the Winter garden ...



along with Grasses ...



and Rosehips.

my photos

WINTER AND SPRING, AND SUMMER!

o

Lilac buds above.

But a little while a go

All the ground was white with snow

Trees and shrubs were dry and bare

Not a sign of life was there.

Now the buds and leaves are seen

Now the fields are fresh and green

Pretty birds are on the wing

With a merry song they sing.

There's new life in everything

How I love the pleasant Spring!

o

Today, clocks in the UK move forward an hour.

o

Which means one hours less sleep, but longer days and more time in the garden. I know which I'd rather have!

o

my photo

THE CALENDAR - PART TWO

I knew when Autumn came
Not by the crimson flame
Of leaves that lapped the eaves
Or mist
In amethyst
And opal-tinted weaves
But because there were alley-taws
Punctual as hips and haws
On the counter of Mrs Shaw's.

by Barbara Euphan Todd

Stone or clay formed the earliest marbles, but the alabaster 'alley-taws' made better shooters than the cheaper clay - these words are taken from the National Toy Hall of Fame website.

my photo

THE CALENDAR - PART ONE

I knew when Summer breathed
Not by the flowers that wreathed
The sedge by the water's edge
Or gold
Of the wold
Or white and rose of the hedge
But because in a wooden box
In the window at Mrs Mocks
There were white-winged shuttlecocks.

By Barbara Euphan Todd