The Winter Bouquet

It was a dreary, cold winter’s morning, yet as I sat gazing out of the window from my cosy lounge, hugging my warm mug of coffee, I saw it. On the edge of what was now a wet, muddy slope that overlooked the garden below, was a Japanese Maple, glistening and bringing the illusion of warmth with it’s bright red branches. The leaves had flown away in autumnal winds and all that was left was the burning red stems of weary branches. 

I smiled as I knew at once what was to be done. Putting on my wellies and grabbing the basket, kept ever-ready by the door, I walked out into a chilly, but bright air. The sun was beginning to tentatively poke out and the thought of bringing some outside life indoors, somehow cheered me. Using my secateurs, I stretched up to snip off some thin, red branches and let them fall into the basket. They lay glistening with the dampness of night frost melting away. I walked on down the slope, pausing to snip at interesting evergreen leaves at the side, until I reached the bottom, to take off some of the trailing stems of the Ceanothus plant, only sown that summer to cover the newly available old wall, what was remaining of the derelict building that had been demolished the year before. What had once been a farm building, had temporarily housed the small congregation that had survived the famous Dolgarrog Dam Disaster of 1925 and washed away their church building. Only the big, old bell had survived, but despite the loss of 16 people, the community had moved on. One hundred years later, the old derelict building that had since been replaced by a newer one, was demolished and a community garden built on that piece of land. Fitting perhaps, as it led up to the Centenary Commemorations the same year.

In the meantime, our garden, that backed onto it had been created from a piece of uneven, hilly, rocky land. Still a work in progress, I loved to walk down there and enjoy the little we had achieved so far. The chrysanthemums, now died off, but reminding me of the same flowers that were used at the funerals of the victims. New perennials were straining to get going in the newly laid beds, some had been moved around before finding their final home in the bid to create the best layout. Annuals had come and gone, leaving space for new life next season.

Winter  was a time to wait and plan, but nevertheless I was quietly pleased to find so much foliage that I was able to gather and bring back inside. Most of it was growing wild, so I wasn’t even sure what it was, but the contrasts of greens, reds, browns, and blacks were as interesting as the different textures of prickly holly, bubbly buds and berries and smooth leaves. Gradually I would get to know what it all was, but in a way it didn’t matter, as together it all belonged to this little piece of paradise that we had been blessed with. I wanted to respect and welcome the natural plants that were here long before us, as they took their rightful place with the newer ones I was planting, hoping that they would fit in and compliment each other, bringing a peaceful haven to a small village that had known much sorrow.

I walked back into the house with a basket full and happily arranged my winter bouquet in the vase that took centre stage. It was a potent reminder of the beauty that comes even in the depths of winter.

Reviews

[emmajoygreen]

'Winter was a time to wait and plan, but nevertheless I was quietly pleased to find so much foliage that I was able to gather and bring back inside. Most of it was growing wild, so I wasn’t even sure what it was, but the contrasts of greens, reds, browns, and blacks were as interesting as the different textures of prickly holly, bubbly buds and berries and smooth leaves. Gradually I would get to know what it all was, but in a way it didn’t matter, as together it all belonged to this little piece of paradise that we had been blessed with. I wanted to respect and welcome the natural plants that were here long before us, as they took their rightful place with the newer ones I was planting, hoping that they would fit in and compliment each other, bringing a peaceful haven to a small village that had known much sorrow.

I walked back into the house with a basket full and happily arranged my winter bouquet in the vase that took centre stage. It was a potent reminder of the beauty that comes even in the depths of winter.'

Bother wonderfully and knowingly written, Christine - start to finish. You obviously love your garden, its plants and the pleasure you have in caring for it; you know the names of your plants too - not everyone does! Being a garden designer (and getting my hands dirty quite often!!!) to read words like yours is a absolute delight!

[Christine]

Thank you for this Emma. You are right, I do love my garden and nature, which often inspires my writing.