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The other sort of baubles in December: a stock pil

The other sort of baubles in December: a stock pile of clippings taking root, handfuls of seed now two inches tall and just enough dwindling light.

The leaves on the ginkgo have finally relinquished

The leaves on the ginkgo have finally relinquished their grip and the trees now a patchwork of bare branches with a few remnants of colour. Slowly stripped with each bout of frost.

The Collins Dictionary might have corralled a list

The Collins Dictionary might have corralled a list of words for 2020, but November came with a vocabulary all of its very own: rust, rain and rot. But then there’s December, the tipping point in the year. When the light begins to creep back in.

The fog tucked itself up and settled down.

The fog tucked itself up and settled down.

Still wrapped in mustard.

Still wrapped in mustard.

With a long run up to it, the frost had properly g

With a long run up to it, the frost had properly got a grip. Breath hanging in the air and any ninety degree uptight now hinged at the hip.

There are two different definitions of winter: the

There are two different definitions of winter: the astronomical winter starting on the 21st, and the meteorological winter starting on the 1st. Then there’s the Winter that started somewhere at the beginning of the week.

Shining through the greige; the sharp orangey yell

Shining through the greige; the sharp orangey yellows of the gingko - a fistful of leaves refusing to uncling, and the jaggedy outline of the larch - all mustard spike and cones. November might not have come with its usual dose of slanting light and crispy at the edge mornings, but it does come with bulbs and the promise of what comes next.

A glimmer of sunshine squeezed from the weekend wi

A glimmer of sunshine squeezed from the weekend with the robin for company and a lone bumble bee.

Somewhere in the stair rods of yesterday.

Somewhere in the stair rods of yesterday.

Part garden, part graveyard in November, but with

Part garden, part graveyard in November, but with arguably more sparkle come the after show party.

Autumn has properly bedded in with a slew of autum

Autumn has properly bedded in with a slew of autumn ombré . Diminishing light, diminishing chlorophyll and a gathering mulch of auburn tresses.

November in all its fiery mist and murk.

November in all its fiery mist and murk.

Thursday morning, and the copper pots and phials h

Thursday morning, and the copper pots and phials had collected 13.3 mm of rain water with a 100 per cent chance of a hooley come the weekend. But even with an unwaivering forecast, and there’s always an unstinting optimism that it must be wrong. No rain clouds after all yesterday, just an autumn gauzy light filtered by the trees. Optimism over reality going by the window rattle this morning.

The ultimate litmus test for cold in Autumn is the

The ultimate litmus test for cold in Autumn is the gingko. A thick rime of frost and it’ll step out of its leaves as though a skirt casually flung at its feet. Just not this year. Too wet/too warm/too something, and it’s a half-hearted disrobing instead. At odds with anything that’s the measure for normal in other years, but maybe the ultimate yardstick for this year.

You could roughly follow the contours and undulati

You could roughly follow the contours and undulations of the countryside in these parts, starting in the mist and emerging, one tump later, in a day completely at odds with the one you’ve just left behind. Fog and frost pockets hewn by the landscape, the country mile equivalent of dahlias and blackened and dishevelled mush.

The cold and crisp came and went, and the mist non

The cold and crisp came and went, and the mist nonchalantly slouched back in and settled itself down.

The silhouette of morning is slowly changing. A fe

The silhouette of morning is slowly changing. A few more craggy limbs and bare branches. Still with a gurgle and patter.

More mustard by the day.

More mustard by the day.

The gingko has defied a Hoare frost and pushed on

The gingko has defied a Hoare frost and pushed on past any of the usual markers in the season that normally strip its branches of gold in one single night. Less casual this year in flinging it’s skirt to the ground, it’s more of a slow release.

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