Dear reader...

WHILE THE WARMTH and comfort of indoors has been my refuge over the festive break, I am eager to be outdoors. Although much in the garden is dormant, there is still lots to enjoy and plenty to occupy me. My plan is to spend an hour or two in the greenhouse. There are no immediately pressing tasks, but there is great satisfaction to be had from stocktaking and preparing for the year to come. Covered in frost, the glass is opaque, and only the vague shapes of the tender plants hiding inside are visible. I try to prize some leaves from the guttering, but they resist, held firm by frozen rainwater. I know the water butt is full as we have had plenty of wet days, but it is satisfying to give it a little push and feel the weight of the water inside. Peeking through the door, I can see I am not the only one seeking peaceful sanctuary. Nestled in an old basket at one end of the workbench, my cat is curled up tight against the cold. She briefly lifts her head in disgust. I have disturbed her slumber. I close the door and put my mug on the shelf. Steam rising from the hot tea melts a hole in the frost. This little window on the garden reveals delicate pink flowers on bare branches bobbing above the roof of the greenhouse. The winter-flowering cherry is in bloom. It makes me smile. As I potter among the upturned pots, waiting for their turn to be useful, I take large gulps of tea. There are seeds to go through in two old biscuit tins: one for flowers, the other for edibles. I thumb through the packets: some are out of date, but I will still sow them when the time comes. One of the joys of growing your own is waiting to see what pokes through the soil; and if nothing happens, that is OK too. There is always another packet of seeds to try. Next, I sweep the floor and sort through my tools. Sharpening my secateurs is a job I always enjoy. Rubbing the stone across the tarnished blades to reveal the shiny metal beneath is very rewarding. As I put away the sharpening stone, my feline friend wakes from her doze and, with one swift leap, she jumps to the floor and leaves. I decide to follow her. It is time to put the kettle on again…