It pays to keep the faith during this cold snap

ON a day when the temperature plummeted, I admit I had a little wobble.

I know that many of the evergreen shrubs that I’ve planted recently are as tough as they come, easily capable of withstanding minus 5C, but when you see them frosted like lollies that have been in the freezer too long, their stems drooping and their leaves wilting, it’s hard not to fear that they won’t recover.

And yet, just a few hours later, warmed by the sun, they looked as perky as ever and I was once again admiring the resilience of those background plants that we rely on for yearround structure.

Things like laurel and privet, holly and viburnum are like the chorus line in the garden, they don’t get the attention of the all-singing-all-dancing roses and dahlias, yet take them away and those floral stars would lose their sparkle.

But in fact a frosty day is a good time to start identifying the spaces where you can slot in some of the flashier performers, both the frothy perennials and the bulb layer. It’s now, when the ground is frozen and even the weeds have disappeared, that you can see the gaps and the bare patches, the dull areas and the parts of the garden that just need cheering up.

I’ve got lots of spots earmarked for peonies and poppies, summer lilies and autumn nerines and now I just need to wait for spring to arrive until I can start planting them, but in the meantime the spring bulbs continue to push their way through the soil, performing the horticultural equivalent of the mannequin challenge during cold spells, but growing stealthily whenever a breeze from the west ushers in milder air. Robins peck the ground

between these early shoots, searching for bugs and grubs, while for the first time the great tits are showing interest in our next box. They ignored it completely when it hung on the fence on the other side of the garden, but since we moved it, it has attracted a steady stream of viewers, which only goes to prove that location really is everything.

I’ve been watching the great tits carry out their inspections while I’ve been sitting at the kitchen table compiling my seed orders. It’s a long list, full of incredible edibles and annuals so zingy that you’d swear that they are on Prozac.

How am I meant to resist ruffled silk petals of carmine-coloured Cosmos bipinnatus ‘Click Cranberries’ or the rich shades of Dahlia ‘Bishop’s Children’, which are easy to grow from seed and would fill the garden with a big burst of gorgeousness? I don’t think I can do without either of them, but then they’d throw my plans for a garden of cool greens and pure whites completely out of kilter.

Solving these dilemmas and editing down my list to a manageable size is an enjoyable tussle that will take me through the rest of January, easily until the first of the snowdrops is in bloom.