A Frosty Day in the Garden

I awake this morning to a severe frost in the garden. Surveying the garden from my conservatory with a mug of tea just before dawn, I am struck by the cold silvery hue of the haw frost which covers even the thinnest bare branches of the apple tree with its icy touch. My lavender bed has taken on a ghostly air as the silver strands of lavender shimmer in the pale light. My round box balls look like giant snow balls.

As the sun begins to creep higher in the sky, the first birds begin to feed from the bird feeders hanging in the old apple tree. Blue tits cling upside down from suspended suet balls and finches begin to feast on sunflower hearts from the feeder. A shrill cry announces the arrival of a hungry blackbird eager to defend his patch of the garden. As the light brightens I noticed one of the resident mice leave its nest in the old wall to scurry underneath the bird feeder in search of a dropped seed or two. The day has begun in my wintery garden.

Fortified against the cold from my bowl of porridge and a thick jumper, I venture out into the frosty garden. My first job is to break the ice on the water in the bird bath to make sure my garden birds have water to go with their feed of seeds. Next, I check on my greenhouse, removing the horticultural fleece I had placed over the top of the plants overwintering inside and check how they have fared - no damage done! The brassicas on the vegetable path look like white statues in the cold still air. I check the compost heap for signs that my resident hedgehog has not been disturbed by the night's chilly temperature - she is obviously still safely tucked up in her warm nest at the centre of the heap.

My next port of call is the wood shed. My wood burner has been working overtime recently and I need to replenish my log basket with wood from the stack. A lovely smell of freshly cut wood greets me as I pulled open the door, a neat new stack of logs having been made by my partner and his chain saw at the weekend. I pride myself on never having to pay for wood if I can help it - there is always a good neighbour or friend whose has had branches cut from a tree, or wood left over from a building job and of course there is the wood I manage to bring back from my walks with the dog.

It's time for a cup of tea. Warming my hands on my mug I look out on the white blanket that is my lawn. Spikes of grass covered in frost twinkle under the sun's rays and I am reminded that on such days it is best to try and avoid trampling over the lawn which is made delicate by the crisp cold. My attention is drawn to the patio and a number of garden planters I covered with fleece the night before, forewarned of the chilly night to come. I unveil the planters and check for damage, making sure the pots have not cracked and the plants have adequate protection.

The sun climbs higher and the sky turns a brilliant blue. Despite the cold the birds remind me that spring is not so far away and beneath the hard frosty ground I notice the first bulbs beginning to push their way up through the earth. Today, winter has the garden gripped in its chilly stillness and we can only wait for the sun to rise higher in the sky and breath its warmth over the garden once more.

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