The big, beautiful January poem

Velvet skies, thermal undies, pink hyacinths on windowsills

Here we are at the end of January, the first month gone already. Thank you so much for your beautiful contributions to our weekly community posts - I see a lot of social media posts about how awful and long January is, and then I look here and I see all of the magic that you have been able to pull out of these bleak days. I do also really like it when you have a bit of a grumble about things too - we like to keep it real here on LLA - but overall my feeling is: wow, what a month. It was particularly a month for beautiful sunrises and stunning night skies, such a velvety depth of darkness and brightness of planets, and beautiful moons too.

Anyway, without further ado, here is the big, beautiful poem of the month, made up from all of your observations, stitched together by me. Get a cup of tea, sit down somewhere cosy, and have a little reminisce about the month just passed.

The lights of London at dusk spread on the horizon beneath the clearest of ombre gold and indigo skies, a ruby necklace strung along the skyline, a few stars visible and a perfectly manicured fingernail moon caught in the skeleton branches of a tree.

A squirrel eating camelias. He tore the knicker pink flowers off then ate the nectar bearing centre then discarded the petals like confetti

Ever since moving to the UK several years ago I’ve loved the London NYE countdown. The fireworks are fine but what I really love is the countdown to the tolling of Big Ben. It always gives me a little rush to hear that deep ringing bell in a way a glittery ball drop never has

We might be in the Narnia season - always winter but never Christmas, which I always hated the thought of but now quite like after the frantic festivities

The birds are emptying the feeders as fast as I can fill them

Welcoming in the new year with candlelight and homemade sloe gin, the bright slice of a new moon in a gold and blue dusk, and a new year's eve call from my son in Australia, already into 2025

The puzzle sprawled out on the dining table - slowing taking shape. So as the pace of our days this week

The grass freezes underfoot. The crescent moon is like a sickle, Venus unearthly bright

Slices of apple in whisky and ginger wine to welcome in the new year; frost crunching under my feet as I went to smash the ice on the birdbath

Pinning up a new calendar, and later the same day opening this year's Almanac to read January, snuggled up in bed

A sense of relief that things have calmed down again, lovely as it all was. Everything is suddenly fresher - the cold, the blue skies, the frozen pond

Hosting a New Years Day open house for neighbours and near friends: mulled wine scent, happy chatter and twinkly candle light

A shelf of reduced mince pies next to Easter eggs in our local co-op

The first pyjamapic of the year — going out in my pyjamas, even (especially) in the frost or snow, to photograph the sunrise, its rays spreading across the frozen, twinkling lawn

Our Christmas tree, so bushy, green and vibrant before the New Year now looking a dry and brittle. Things are getting back to normality and I want to hold onto the Christmas magic just a bit longer

Lots of ice scraper use to get the car ready to drive to work

Sowing sweet peas into toilet roll tubes under the most welcome blue sky

Driving home in the dusk stars beginning to twinkle and the waxing crescent of the moon

Enjoying the cosiness my festive decorations and feeling a little sad the tree will soon be returning to the garden

Impromptu walks in hastily covered pajamas, guilt-free hours spent reading on the sofa, digging into the family games closet

Five donkeys in a sparkling frosted field doing their very best impression of a Christmas card that missed the last post

Cracking open the new calendar and writing the first notations, musing over what those future blank pages will hold

Time passing in a haze of cheese, cookies, chocolates and being unsure exactly which day it is

A milky white sky teasing me with the promise, or threat, of snow

Slowly taking down decorations, and counting how long until the Christmas season begins again. But then I allow myself to dream of all the beautiful in between

Transferring all the important dates from last year (birthdays, anniversaries, solstices and equinoxes etc) into my new calendar

The magnolia buds are starting to appear but show no sign of opening their fury coats yet. Tiny green points of daffodils poking a toe out from under their blanket of leaves

The waxing crescent moon with Venus shining so largely and brightly to the right of it

Trying to get out of the habit of a lie-in

The crystal-like pattern formations on the decayed plants and grasses in the hard frost

The twinkly lights are still bringing sparkle and joy

Snowdrops in our large pot on the balcony showing white blouses

The last of the butter cookies from the yearly holiday tin

---

Walking along the beach at Bamburgh and feeling the cold on my face, then a sudden hail shower as Lindisfarne disappeared in the distance. Feeling really alive and invigorated and then home to a log burner and hot chocolate

The river flooded and the adjacent meadows are now lakes

Bundling my two little girls (8 and 4) up with thick coats, hats, gloves and scarves every morning before school

The first of the indoor hyacinths has raced into flower on the bathroom windowsill- a rapidly widening slash of brilliant bright pink, then the petals uncurling and releasing their spicy fragrance

Enjoying lots of cozy cabin meals during a week up north with my family - bolognese, beef stew and looking forward to green pozole tomorrow night

Four robins gathering peacefully around feeders, territorial disputes put aside when food sources are limited

Sun basking with coffee by the window and the low, mid morning sun casts the long shadows of magpies flying across the table

We have been forced to retreat by thick compacted ice but that has meant finishing my first book of the year and making spicy parsnip soup

Walking along a high ridge in the cold blue light and seeing the sky change to warm tangerine as the sun comes up, and an unexpected feeling of pure hope

My efforts to cut the enormous bay tree have been prevented by collared doves moving in

Views of a beautiful snowy blizzard in Cornwall from the inside of a cosy fire lit pub. Blustery walks on the cliff tops spotting seals bobbing in the sea

A sunrise of ribbons of pink wrapping around icy rooftops

Thermals and snow boots

Wonderful stargazing, with the waxing moon, Jupiter, Venus, Mars and Saturn on a bitterly cold but beautiful early evening walk

Wrapping up, thermals and all, to begin the rose pruning. Peaceful, meditative work under blue sky, with just the birds for company

Woke up to a thick blanket of snow with chunky snow falling from the sky

Cracking thick ice on the chickens water bowls

Cajoling my very grumpy teenage son out of the door to walk the dog with me, the temptation of cracking iced puddles too great for him to resist and the sounds, physicality, beauty and playfulness magically shifting his mood in spite of himself

The last dog walk before bed, the pair of us crunching over hushed, sparkling grass. Seeing starlight through bare branches, and my hot breath billowing upwards into the light of the head torch

Hot coffee on a fiercely cold and frosty morning

Wrapping my horse up in his thickest, cosiest rug to keep him snug

Stars shine brighter in the frozen air; Venus and Jupiter dominate with their brilliance

Making ice decorations that freeze overnight and I hang up on the door, and they are lasting days

Keeping the bird feeders topped up feels like my winter's work

Perched high in the trees, lots of tiny birds warming their tiny bodies in the sunlight

The fierce sparkle of the starry skies, the moonlight painting surfaces with frost

In Austin, Texas, it's finally cold enough for my cozy thermal winter pajamas (in a red fair isle print)

Realising that I'd left my Christmas tablecloth draped over the coffee table long after Twelfth Night. Oops! There will be goblins

Taking the decorations down and chopping up the Christmas tree — but I'm leaving the twinkling outdoor lights up until Candlemas

Woken twice in the week, once by foxes yowling and again with the honking of geese

Looking out on the icy fields. Each branch, each twig, limed with frost. If it was a Christmas card, you would think they had overdone the glitter

Slow cooked stew, spices scenting the air, eaten while we watched the snow fall

A squeeze and peel of January bergamot and blood oranges, bursting sunshine

Getting the tree down and feeling been happy to have air and light in its place

A small brown owl at 9am, just perched on a traffic sign in the frost

Three whole snow days after getting around 13 total inches of snow in Kansas

Walked out to our woods just after dawn to cut dried wild bergamot heads, red and prickly black raspberry whips, and dried grasses to add to a vase of oak twigs. A gloriously wild winter arrangement

The little robin has been singing loudly each day from somewhere inside the hedge just waiting for the thaw to come

In beautiful Moray, N.E Scotland each morning we open our bedroom curtains to nature’s palette of turquoise and orange with splashes of grey, and yesterday touches of dark dark grey, candy pink and orange on the horizon

Assessment season at university. Drowning in essays

Thickest and cosiest handmade knitwear to walk the dog very early in the morning. I spotted Mars close to the twins constellation of Castor and Pollux

The lovely quiet of the holidays has been replaced with stress

Building a snow igloo for the first time (I‘m 33)

---

A gang of rooks mixing with crows in the field one day, a flock of redwings another…

Still feeling in hibernating mode but getting fidgety

The moon so low that it shines through the branches of the tree illuminating the shape against the sky and casting an oak tree shaped shadow down the garden

On Wednesday morning I awoke at 6:20 to the sound of birdsong - firm reassurance from my local robin that the days are lengthening

Hellebores flowering, a single snowdrop out and a solitary pink pulmonaria flower already. Red ornamental quince has buds ready to burst

A beautiful week to feel our smallness against a night sky offering such wealth. Dusted off the telescope to squint at Saturn's rings. Feeling safe under Orion's watchful eye over our house

Putting The Tree out for collection, the festivities are truly over for another 11 months

The first whiff of gorgeous perfume from the sarcococca - sweet box - shrubs by the front door

Saw my first snow drops of the year in a graveyard

I was disappointed that I could not see the full moon from my side of the building—but there it was, still out, at sunrise, in view from my window

Lords and Ladies beginning to raise their heads from the mud

My local hardware store has bunches of daffodils (99p each!) outside their shopfront, and I’ve chomped through a packet of mini eggs

Every morning, stopping every five minutes on the walk to work to take rubbish phone photos of the pink-streaked sky

Buying sprigs of the first mimosa from France and baking a whole orange cake to add to the bright scent

Swans, ducks, moorhens and a grebe on the canal, swimming between the icy patches of water

Buying a bottle of cider so we can do a wassail this weekend and give thanks to the trees in the communal front yard, the fern in our postcard size backyard and of course the potted plants on the roof terrace

The sparrow pair who nest in the space above my bathroom window checking it out, and one cheeky male pulled moss from my hanging basket for his nest, flying back to the ivy on the wall with it

Full on cabin fever here. Stalking the garden, pretending to tidy the greenhouse and wishing, oh just wishing it was spring

The slow dance of the planets, very bright and dramatic even with the full moon, some astonishing sun rises too

A walk in a damp wood, the smell of pine absolutely divine.

Taking advantage of a loose relationship with Christianity to feast on donuts and other pastry treats in recognition of the epiphany season

The tips of narcissus and crocuses beginning to emerge

The Valentines onslaught of cards and candy and already, chocolate Bunnies are hopping along onto supermarket shelves

Small flocks of goldfinches descending on the teasel heads

Thick fog in the valley, can barely see the grazing sheep

Holding two children through norovirus this week whilst fighting a heavy cold

Witch hazel appreciation

---

What a month! Thank you again for your wonderful contributions. Please leave me a note to let me know if you have enjoyed, and let’s do it all again in February…