Perhaps it ’s just me , but 2021 has experience like a serious mental test of our survival both in world-wide and as gardeners . We begin the year in strict lockdown , having had our Christmas plans curtail at the eleventh minute . Now it seems not unacceptable that 2022 might begin the same way . At fourth dimension we have allowed ourselves to opine that the last of our troubles might be in sight , remarking that things feel almost back to normal , only for Covid 19 to bring forth a new , more virulent stochastic variable . Is this turbulent ‘ should we ? should n’t we ? ’ , ‘ can we ? ca n’t we ? ’ scenario the new normal ? Heaven forbid .
springtime was long and cold , eventually giving means to a lusterless summer . Tender plants and wanted seedling had to wait in the offstage until June before they were good to take centre stage . Some plant life thrive in nerveless condition , others dragged their feet . I spent weeks and then calendar month severalise myself that a quick magical spell was just around the corner , but it never come . I missed the abundant temperateness hours that 2020 consecrate us with . On the allotment , tomatoes were blighted and zucchini never found their mojo , yet we enjoy a ok craw of rhubarb plant , beans , spud , raspberries and cucumber . A balmy fall partially compensated for the earlier chill , endear the time of year to me in a young fashion . The mellow months of September and October create the perfect environment for our dahlia and chrysanthemums to thrive . November was suspiciously calm , morphing peacefully into a typically moribund December . Monty Don sums the current calendar month up brilliantly :
December is a dismal month for gardeners . If any of the shards of autumn still cleave at its outset , they are all dispose by the end . There are leaves to collect and perhaps trees , and put off to plant but truculent weather , the shortness of the day entail that in verity little is asked of the nurseryman – and very little given back .
I ’ve been reflecting on Monty ’s password over the last couple of days and conclude that it ’s just as well December is n’t a more generous month . We are all , by vary stage , tired , preoccupy and weigh down by the baggage we ’ve amass over the last eleven months . We are too jaded to do much other than stumble happily half - witting towards Christmas and New Year . This calendar month the Beau and I have essay to summon sufficient time and enthusiasm to assoil the allotment , engraft any remaining tulip light bulb and clean up our shop . Finding the energy has not been easy and we have n’t gather much satisfaction from our labours . It ’s better , I mean , to swallow that December is a calendar month that has plans for us , and not vice versa . Go with the flow , hug it or endure it , but do n’t fight against it – you will not win . Take control of your animation and your garden again in January when the festivity are over and a fresh starting time can be made .
Hence today , on the shortest day of the year , we should give ourselves and each other a little pat on the back for having made it this far through a churning and troublesome year . rain cats and dogs a drink , nestle up , be tolerant to yourself and coast through the rest of the year as idly and effortlessly as you may . At no other time do our garden want us less and our family and friends necessitate us more . Those marked-up crapper , puddle seed packets , random bulb and unpruned rose will seem a lot less of a challenge in two weeks ’ time . TFG .
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Categories : Christmas , Musings , uncategorised , Weather
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