From the sparkling sunshine and greens and blues of New Zealand to the depths of the English winter. Dorset is drenched. The rain poured down yesterday, and we hardly left the house.
This morning, I took my camera on our daily round – nothing new to see, except that we always see the earth and the landscape in a completely new and fresh light every time we look.
This is the time of year when there’s a total absence of life in the woods and fields – not a leaf on the trees, nothing stirring. Just grey, green, brown. The earth laid bare. We’ve had the shortest day, almost a month ago now. It’s as if there is a lag to what’s happening in nature. I love the clarity of the hills, the lie of the land, at this particular moment. 
The absence of colour other than green. I think I couldn’t do without the green of the English winter- it was the thing I was most homesick for when I lived in America, where the winters were so cold (and hence so dry) that everything was parched to a pale golden brown, as if in a drought of summer. 
But here, on the hazels, the catkins are coming into flower….
And Charlie’s snowdrops are all coming through. 
Just before lunch, after a huge rainstorm, the clouds parted and sunshine gleamed.
The lime tree by the church was transformed into something astonishing, made of silver. 
The house was bathed in brilliant sunshine, the sky was blue. 
For the moment, the garden feels full of optimism and promise. 
I could have called this blog ‘Sunshine after Rain’. I’d like to say that’s how we should all be feeling. Something tells me we’ll be happy to get through the next few dark weeks, but deep in the dark earth, spring is bursting, as it always has, and always will. It’s good to remember that just now.
12 comments
It takes the eye of an artist to frame those landscapes. You bring to those of us who follow you, an edge of excitement and the dullness of winter.
Can you tell me what the garden fence of? What kind of wood and what kind of wire.
Thanks,
Ann
The greens have enough yellow in them in this post that I can see how lovely it all is
Have you ever written poetry? Bet you be good at it. I love how you see the world.
Beautiful pictures, we have daffs out here in Cork Ireland…so wonderful to see.
Wonderful to see the carkins a d snowdrops coming through. There is such comfort in the seasons.
So beautiful and lush the greenery. So far ahead in your season. We are getting snow tomorrow where I live in Canada and everything is so grey. So nice to see your garden area also. Can’t wait to see Charlie’s garden and planting this spring. I live in a City and they are forever taking down trees or buildings and building 40 storey condo buildings, 10 around my neighbourhood. So sad to see, so I am thrilled to see your lovely vegetation and nature. Thank you.
This is where God lives. Exquisite property, every season!
Kia ora Ben,
Great post this week, as always. I recently came across your blog (after buying King Charles and Queen Camilla teatowels as Xmas gifts) and yes, it is an inspiration! I read through some of the back entries over the holiday period and it is a bit like reading a diary – really amazing to read your reflections in real-time when we know momentous change is just around the corner (e.g. Brexit, Pandemic response).
In some of your posts you have included links to earlier entries and when I have clicked on them they go no-where, I think I have worked out that this may be because your earlier blog entries have been archived? I am wondering if there is some way to access the archive from your website or if the archive is permanent, in which case I will just look forward to future entries!
Best,
James
If winter comes can spring be far behind. Beautiful pictures.
Beautiful pictures and words Ben, an ode to the English countryside.
Just a technical question .. the beautiful fence around the garden, do you have a supplier ? or did you make it yourselves … AND does it keep the rabbits out!! It’s so lovely. Thanks as ever for the inspiration.
The ‘lag of nature’ resonates and makes me think of the garden sculptures of Anne Curry, which study the immense internal energy in ripening seeds and pods or leaves unfurling. They remind and reassure me that in winter nature is still evolving out of sight: under the ground bulbs prepare to push through the soil’s surface, trees having a final rest before rising their sap to push out new life.
Really beautiful photo’s.