The sunrises have been my treat for driving to work so early. My new part time job is in the countryside and while I could take the motorway, I much prefer adding an extra 10-15mins and going through the country lanes instead!
As the wheel turns & Imbolc is ever near I decorate my front porch with pots of primroses & collect willow & greenery to attempt a Spring wreath for the door hoping to bring some seasonal cheer to passers by. Seeing a Jay as I wandered the woodland on what would have been my dear Dad’s birthday. his favourite bird, Thank you dad. Sitting quietly drinking my morning tea by candlelight & enjoying some me time before the family awakes.
My things this week are all about the contrast between the beginning of the week and the end of the week. At the start of this week it was a frosty walk with frozen grass crunching underfoot, bending down to examine ice patterns on leaves and the first very frosty primrose! The same walk also led us to a bank of early snowdrops and as I bent down to one that was open I realised (for the first time ever) that snowdrops have a scent. A beautiful, delicate scent that is heady for a moment - and then gone. Perhaps it is just the variety I found but it was like a piece of early spring magic. About midway through last week I started seeing gorse everywhere - abundant on snowy Exmoor and in the hedgerow - ignoring the blatant news that it is, in fact, winter. I love that gorse can bloom all year round though, was very happy to see the yellow amongst all the shades of grey and brown. And towards the end of the week - it was a deeply muddy walk in the fog, trampling through boggy fields created by melting ice. We were overlooked by crows peering at us through the mist, and came across a grove of trees covered in trailing bearded lichen, looking very gothic and ghostly. Like something wonderful out of Jane Eyre.
All the tiny signs of spring this week have recalled to me a favourite George Eliot quote “We could never have loved the earth so well if we had had no childhood in it—if it were not the same earth where the flowers come up again every spring that we used to gather with our tiny fingers (…). What novelty is worth that sweet monotony where everything is known, and loved because it is known?”
Thank you Lia such a kind thing to say. I love reading all your seasonal things - your observation about the pollarded trees this week is so accurate and I really associate them with Bristol and miss them when I am away!
A shift in the light levels at the end of the afternoon, bringing a feeling of the year moving along. Gorgeous red sunsets over the rooftops of south London at the weekend and my son, who leaves early for work, telling me about spectacular sunrises in Sheffield. Hellebores raising their heads, unbeaten by the frost, snowdrops just starting to form their annual white ribbon under the hedges in the garden. Still winter, but new life emerging.
January is the home of Burns Nite -a supper for performing poetry songs and little theatre vignettes . Feasting is also de rigeur with haggis neeps and tatties followed by raspberry Cranach and some firewater to wash it down and whet our throats for song . Love the rituals of the New Year starting to mark our calendar and stir the memories of what was and will be in 2023 in the Wheel of the Year .Tam o ‘Shanter Bonnets too to keep our heads warm until Imbolc and the first shoots of Spring there already in the form of snowdrops nodding the breeze above the cold ground .
Yes my husband (Scottish) usually feeds us all haggis on Burns Night but we didn’t get around to it this year. The kids are gutted, I’m sure you can imagine…
I’ve never heard of pollarding! So fun & exactly like those fun & eerie illustrations ❤️ my observations this week: 1) the first big snow storm of the year! Schools closed and all. It was extra work for me, but fun to have everyone home together 2) crisp, morning walks before the school bus comes & snow covered trees - it was the damp fluffy variety so it’s still clinging to everything and making the world magical ✨ 3) watching juncos, doves and sparrows at the feeders when the sun comes out. I absolutely love the light when everything is covered in snow - it’s so mellow and golden.
I almost can't believe it's the last week of January. I am usually fine with winter but this winter is so much harder due to now having long covid and so limited in my ability to do things. I've had to force myself to get out and of course it has been worth it, in all the weathers we've had. I've noticed buds developing more, including some with crinkly leaves starting to appear and I finally found some female Hazel flowers after learning about them last winter. So tiny yet so vivid. Ii talked about them in my substack last weekend. And then a moment of winter joy (rather than just searching for sorting) enjoying both the sound and sensation of crunching icy muddy puddles in the fog.
Ah I’m so sorry to hear that Rachel. My husband has chronic fatigue and my son has recovered from it so I really know what you are going through and it’s very tough. Take it very easy. I’m glad you’re finding beautiful cheering things x
Lovely post Lia. For me it been a typical January week mostly cold and damp but I have tried to make the most of it. I had a technical exam to prepare for this week, so I spent most of my time indoors studying (I'm getting way too old for exams!). But I also managed to find time to do a bit of garden maintenance - repairing my vegetable troughs and making sure the bird boxes were secure and in good repair for some new guests, hopefully. also taking the time to reflect about how I can make the most of the year ahead.
The weather has been unpredictable. We've had foggy days, but also some crystal clear nights. I attempted and failed to take a decent photo of Orion, but I had more success capturing the stunning sunsets we have had this week.
Thank you John. Yes I am full of admiration for those that can take good night sky pics! Well done on troughs and bird boxes among the exams, solid January garden jobs, those. And good luck!
Visiting the Oyster beds near Saint-Alban, Brittany. Served rows of posts set out across the bay. Monster truck/boats rip the mature oysters from their man-made homes on ropes.
Fishing out the thick circle of ice from a frozen plant pot and propping it up on the wall like a small Andy Goldsworthy art piece, a small moment of artistic flair just for me.
Sitting quietly with a hot tea counting the birds for the RSPB birdwatch, an annual tradition.
A solitary bumblebee feeding on the sarcococca on an unexpected mild day between days of minus temperatures.
I love sharing this quiet momemt each week. It is such a joy xx
Oh the sunrise on that frosty field is just beautiful I love dog walking mornings like that. This last week of January has felt endless as the skies have been an unrelenting grey over Paris, the sun unable to break through.
A few highlights were a gorgeous little Robin landing on the path in front of us, which was a nice change from the crows and pigeons.
A very delicious chocolat chaud and salted caramel macron with a friend.
I also found out that French toast is called pain perdu (lost bread) in France which I just love and intend to use the literal translation when I’m back in the U.K. - I would like some lost bread for brunch please 😊
The beach bathed in warm sunshine, looking and almost feeling like summer, immediately followed by a grey, gloomy day with an icy breeze (that’s Cornwall for you ...). And the realisation that it’s now light enough for an after-work dog walk.
I love how different people pick up different notes from plants, and I have never noticed clove in witch hazel, only citrus. I will have to seek one out!
Lovely post, a joy to read as usual. I was away in Devon on the weekend and had the joy of a beautiful clear sunny day to walk with friends and dogs on Westward Ho! Beach. Also the cottage where we stayed had a fabulous garden and under an apple tree a flock of fieldfares feasted on rotting windfalls and bugs.
Gently rolling a browning apple onto the grass through the lounge window, waiting for the blackbirds to come and feast. X
They’ll have loved that I bet…
The sunrises have been my treat for driving to work so early. My new part time job is in the countryside and while I could take the motorway, I much prefer adding an extra 10-15mins and going through the country lanes instead!
Oh I bet that’s been beautiful. Watch the ice…
As the wheel turns & Imbolc is ever near I decorate my front porch with pots of primroses & collect willow & greenery to attempt a Spring wreath for the door hoping to bring some seasonal cheer to passers by. Seeing a Jay as I wandered the woodland on what would have been my dear Dad’s birthday. his favourite bird, Thank you dad. Sitting quietly drinking my morning tea by candlelight & enjoying some me time before the family awakes.
Beautiful, thank you. So glad that jay came to visit you… And how lovely to decorate the porch for Imbolc.
My things this week are all about the contrast between the beginning of the week and the end of the week. At the start of this week it was a frosty walk with frozen grass crunching underfoot, bending down to examine ice patterns on leaves and the first very frosty primrose! The same walk also led us to a bank of early snowdrops and as I bent down to one that was open I realised (for the first time ever) that snowdrops have a scent. A beautiful, delicate scent that is heady for a moment - and then gone. Perhaps it is just the variety I found but it was like a piece of early spring magic. About midway through last week I started seeing gorse everywhere - abundant on snowy Exmoor and in the hedgerow - ignoring the blatant news that it is, in fact, winter. I love that gorse can bloom all year round though, was very happy to see the yellow amongst all the shades of grey and brown. And towards the end of the week - it was a deeply muddy walk in the fog, trampling through boggy fields created by melting ice. We were overlooked by crows peering at us through the mist, and came across a grove of trees covered in trailing bearded lichen, looking very gothic and ghostly. Like something wonderful out of Jane Eyre.
All the tiny signs of spring this week have recalled to me a favourite George Eliot quote “We could never have loved the earth so well if we had had no childhood in it—if it were not the same earth where the flowers come up again every spring that we used to gather with our tiny fingers (…). What novelty is worth that sweet monotony where everything is known, and loved because it is known?”
This is beautiful! Thank you so much Ella you always write such gorgeous comments. This really ties in with the Hazel thoughts of last week too…hmm…
Thank you Lia such a kind thing to say. I love reading all your seasonal things - your observation about the pollarded trees this week is so accurate and I really associate them with Bristol and miss them when I am away!
Watched Greta Gerwigs little women last night and Jo reads this quote ❤️❤️
Yes I love this movie!
Oh that is a wonderful quote!
A shift in the light levels at the end of the afternoon, bringing a feeling of the year moving along. Gorgeous red sunsets over the rooftops of south London at the weekend and my son, who leaves early for work, telling me about spectacular sunrises in Sheffield. Hellebores raising their heads, unbeaten by the frost, snowdrops just starting to form their annual white ribbon under the hedges in the garden. Still winter, but new life emerging.
Yes hasn’t the light started to shift! And very good forward planning with your very own ribbon of snow drops…
January is the home of Burns Nite -a supper for performing poetry songs and little theatre vignettes . Feasting is also de rigeur with haggis neeps and tatties followed by raspberry Cranach and some firewater to wash it down and whet our throats for song . Love the rituals of the New Year starting to mark our calendar and stir the memories of what was and will be in 2023 in the Wheel of the Year .Tam o ‘Shanter Bonnets too to keep our heads warm until Imbolc and the first shoots of Spring there already in the form of snowdrops nodding the breeze above the cold ground .
Yes my husband (Scottish) usually feeds us all haggis on Burns Night but we didn’t get around to it this year. The kids are gutted, I’m sure you can imagine…
I’ve never heard of pollarding! So fun & exactly like those fun & eerie illustrations ❤️ my observations this week: 1) the first big snow storm of the year! Schools closed and all. It was extra work for me, but fun to have everyone home together 2) crisp, morning walks before the school bus comes & snow covered trees - it was the damp fluffy variety so it’s still clinging to everything and making the world magical ✨ 3) watching juncos, doves and sparrows at the feeders when the sun comes out. I absolutely love the light when everything is covered in snow - it’s so mellow and golden.
Envying you your snow fall! Where are you?
Ohio ☺️
I almost can't believe it's the last week of January. I am usually fine with winter but this winter is so much harder due to now having long covid and so limited in my ability to do things. I've had to force myself to get out and of course it has been worth it, in all the weathers we've had. I've noticed buds developing more, including some with crinkly leaves starting to appear and I finally found some female Hazel flowers after learning about them last winter. So tiny yet so vivid. Ii talked about them in my substack last weekend. And then a moment of winter joy (rather than just searching for sorting) enjoying both the sound and sensation of crunching icy muddy puddles in the fog.
Ah I’m so sorry to hear that Rachel. My husband has chronic fatigue and my son has recovered from it so I really know what you are going through and it’s very tough. Take it very easy. I’m glad you’re finding beautiful cheering things x
Thank you, I don't know what I'd do without nature noticing. It's also very good to have people that understand so thank you for sharing.
Lovely post Lia. For me it been a typical January week mostly cold and damp but I have tried to make the most of it. I had a technical exam to prepare for this week, so I spent most of my time indoors studying (I'm getting way too old for exams!). But I also managed to find time to do a bit of garden maintenance - repairing my vegetable troughs and making sure the bird boxes were secure and in good repair for some new guests, hopefully. also taking the time to reflect about how I can make the most of the year ahead.
The weather has been unpredictable. We've had foggy days, but also some crystal clear nights. I attempted and failed to take a decent photo of Orion, but I had more success capturing the stunning sunsets we have had this week.
Thank you John. Yes I am full of admiration for those that can take good night sky pics! Well done on troughs and bird boxes among the exams, solid January garden jobs, those. And good luck!
I love a pollard too, and love those Rackham illustrations. 'The trees all stand like pleading hands' as the always correct Nick Cave sang
Ooh I like that
Visiting the Oyster beds near Saint-Alban, Brittany. Served rows of posts set out across the bay. Monster truck/boats rip the mature oysters from their man-made homes on ropes.
How magic
Fishing out the thick circle of ice from a frozen plant pot and propping it up on the wall like a small Andy Goldsworthy art piece, a small moment of artistic flair just for me.
Sitting quietly with a hot tea counting the birds for the RSPB birdwatch, an annual tradition.
A solitary bumblebee feeding on the sarcococca on an unexpected mild day between days of minus temperatures.
I love sharing this quiet momemt each week. It is such a joy xx
Oh the sunrise on that frosty field is just beautiful I love dog walking mornings like that. This last week of January has felt endless as the skies have been an unrelenting grey over Paris, the sun unable to break through.
A few highlights were a gorgeous little Robin landing on the path in front of us, which was a nice change from the crows and pigeons.
A very delicious chocolat chaud and salted caramel macron with a friend.
I also found out that French toast is called pain perdu (lost bread) in France which I just love and intend to use the literal translation when I’m back in the U.K. - I would like some lost bread for brunch please 😊
The beach bathed in warm sunshine, looking and almost feeling like summer, immediately followed by a grey, gloomy day with an icy breeze (that’s Cornwall for you ...). And the realisation that it’s now light enough for an after-work dog walk.
The clove scent of blooming witch hazel, with its wrinkled fringes of yellow petals and orange jewel center.
I love how different people pick up different notes from plants, and I have never noticed clove in witch hazel, only citrus. I will have to seek one out!
This is our native Ozark witch hazel. It might have a different scent.
Lovely post, a joy to read as usual. I was away in Devon on the weekend and had the joy of a beautiful clear sunny day to walk with friends and dogs on Westward Ho! Beach. Also the cottage where we stayed had a fabulous garden and under an apple tree a flock of fieldfares feasted on rotting windfalls and bugs.
Gorgeous. And fabulous Westward Ho! The only town name that includes an exclamation mark, I think?
In Quebec there is a town called Saint Louis du Ha! Ha!