Silhouettes and Moon Shadows

Nearly at winter solstice, I'm counting down the days... and still looking for the good bits about this winter darkness. The full moon has helped (we didn't get to see this 10 December eclipse here, it happened in the middle of a cloudy afternoon before the moon even rose for us): and at seven in the morning and seven in the evening, when I'm out walking, it has been bright enough to cast lovely moonshadows (yes, the Cat Stevens song is in my head as I write that...). That awareness of the moon is something I genuinely enjoy about midwinter.

Midwinter too, if the days are cloud-free, is the best time to look at trees in a different way. The silhouettes can be so-o-o beautiful. The light that makes them is treasured as in that morning shot on a walk last week: scots pine and sycamore and the sun about to make an appearance in the south east sky behind. And here's the oak tree that had the moon behind it on an earlier evening, reaching across to an old ivy-clad wall (that surrounds what was a large walled garden). What I don't have is a picture of any beech trees, which have their own particular beauty: ghostly silver-grey bark and the ends of their branches upturned distinctively and delicately like a Thai dancer's hands. Check them out next time you're passing one.

Back in my own small patch, I finally cleared out the glasshouse of the *very* very last of the tomatoes (honest)
and combined them with Donegal apples and a few other bits and bobs to make a lovely chutney. Yum. It'll go nicely with sharp cheddar or into chillies or stews. The kitchen still smells like a busy chipper though - that vinegar does tend to linger...

The glasshouse was also the scene of some destruction as the warm November led to an explosion of white fly (I think). Anyway, mostly gone now and there'll be a serious cleaning that needs to be done on some warm day in the coming months.

What's left in the glasshouse now are some winter leaves (happy in an old wine box cadged from lovely Ruth in our local offie), some plants that need shelter, some strawberries that I hope will give me an early crop in the late Spring, and some pelargoniums... the latter I consider on loan from Da/Granda: he always loved their bright colours (the brighter the better) and these are ones that I had out on his grave over late summer and autumn. I've replaced them with winter cyclamen now and these are holidaying in the glasshouse over winter. I'm not a great one for colour in the garden, more of a texture-gal really, but I have to admit these cheer me up no end when they catch my eye from outside the glasshouse or when I pop in to pick some chillies or winter greens.

And finally, how about this for lovely writing about the natural world around us: Jim Perrin in last Saturday's Guardian. I'd like to write like that when I grow up...