First day of Winter – December 1st

Today, first day of winter in the meteorological calendar.  So the met office says.

Tidying up, they say one shouldn’t, that there are hibernating things of all sorts under the dead stuff, but I do.  Like  housework, but enjoyable, clearing and piling the slimy soapy leaves into sacks.

No frosts, yet all deciduous leaves have fallen.  The sky striped with bars of blue sky and pink clouds.  Above me the white barked birch becomes pink, like branched coral.  Stillness, yet change every moment.  All is illusion.

An Iris unguicularis has flowered, tatty and quickly slug riddled, but blue, clear blue.  Brightest are the standard cotoneasters – watereri lipstick red, and rothschildianus, gold.  Never had them so stunning.  They should stay until the birds –  winter arrivals, like fieldfares – pick them in February.  They are doing what I planned for them nine years ago, which is satisfying.  I copied dear Michael Highton, who died of cancer, and now I  invite his ghost, wherever he is, to come and see them too.