Winter colour

Winter roles remorselessly on, grey days and ice following windy days and rain, the ground cold, the world lifeless.  Almost.  I don't think anybody actually enjoys this time of year, but a quick snoop around the garden this weekend revealed one-or-two moments of comfort, slowly peeling away the heavy cloak of January that seems, at a glance, to have shrouded our world in darkness.  The odd flash of red berries, the pastel hue of an emerging crocus, the sultry blue of the first grape hyacinth defying all the weather - well, who can resist a little smirk?

First off, primroses.  Millions of them.  I've been hard at work over the last few weeks planting in these lovely little woodland plants wherever I can find a good enough space.  Compact, colourful, and delightfully perennial, they're a mainstay in what we are dubbing "the winter border," an at-present incomplete space that we're building up especially to give colour to future winters.  Viburnum, cyclamen, and Helleborus niger - the wonderfully named Christmas Rose - are amongst other stars of the corner, offering a lovely bit of subtle colour, and ensuring that something is in bloom on every single day of the year.  It's a border that we'll be working on more as the year progresses.

Our garden is inherently woodland, so is the perfect environment for primroses.  I've planted a few more out on the bank, and many more down on the grassy terrace, around the container pond.  The point of this planting isn't just for us to enjoy; in fact, this whole primrose project has a more important meaning.  Recently, we joined Butterfly Conservation, the charity dedicated to saving British butterflies and moths.  As any discerning wildlife gardener will tell you, now is just about the most important time for getting colour into your garden; overwintering butterflies will soon be scouring the bare gardens for essential early nectar, whilst hibernating queen bumblebees rely on such energy sources to see them through to finding a nest site.  Our primrose patches, early daffodils, crocus bulbs and hyacinths should ensure just that, pushing our wildlife through the critical phase, before the real big hitters of spring start to arrive.

I'm still waiting for that one wonderful day you get each year, when for the first time the Sun's rays cut through the cold, birdsong floats high on the air, and even if it's still a little nippy, you know then that spring is taking hold.  Until that day, I'll content myself with a nice bit of winter heather, and the song of one of our most underrated garden birds, the great tit, wafting across our winter garden with perfection.  Beautiful.