It's cold enough now to send me shivering inside...fingers and toes numb, unable and unwilling to touch the clammy mud and muck out there. Wonderfully, however, there is a winter garden to enjoy, and a lovely sense that the scene will grow and expand over the years as my sensibilities sink deeper and deeper into this earth.
The cornus sericea 'midwinter fire' which I boldly coppiced for the first time last March, sprang up beautifully and is now a lovely presence in the third terrace, blushing deeper as the cold increases, having already illuminated the space with a clear golden crown a month ago. She begs for company.
The red clover cover crop tossed in the potager has sprung up into a lovely emerald carpet, surrounded by the bay topiaries, the parsley ruff, the alpine strawberries and my under-construction wattle borders. The chartreuse urns, though empty of their summer abundance now, help give the place the permanent presence I wanted for this important part of my world. It looks grand from all the windows into the rear gardens.
I have strung the cornus alternifolia with tiny white lights and Queen Katsura 'pendula' as well. Suddenly the black hole outside the windows at night have become a magical fairyland. My neighbors across the creek have lighted a tree in answer. The dark wood now sings.
I still have a few chores outside, a few vulnerable plants to heel in or haul in or tuck in...tools that need attention...yet things have slowed down so much, nothing seems urgent anymore. The moles who wreaked havoc in my lawn last month have finally settled down in their burrows, hopefully not amongst some vulnerable roots. The garden is snuggled in for a long winter's nap.
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