In suspense

This blog certainly is, and I am too about what is happening to my brassicas at the plot.  November, December - busy, busy months, also quagmires of mud months.  Followed by being away for Christmas and New Year. Then work starting up again - aargh.

These are the latest shots I have from a visit to the plot on the 25th of November.  Actual broccoli, like the kind you buy in the supermarket.  Savoy cabbage, hearting up but also being munched.  And purple sprouting growing steadily.
 

My husband was at the plot last weekend to repair the shed roof, which is covered with tar paper.  It's been leaking, and with the heavy rains we've had there's been quite a bit of water coming through.  He had to wait until the temperature reached 10 degrees to apply the tar sealant, and luckily last weekend was warm enough.  

Today it's snowing - not nice fluffy flakes, but wet snow falling heavily in raw, damp air, so although I have a free day when I could pop along and see what's happening, I feel in full Scottish hibernation mode.   For the moment I'm not really thinking too much about the plot - my concentration is all at home, on my gorgeous Christmas cacti and on spring bulbs both inside and in the garden.  January and February are long winter months in Scotland.  There will be time for planning once some signs of spring appear.  With no greenhouse and very little suitable windowsill space I can't do early indoor sowings, but I'm quite content to wait.

Looking into the heart of Spring

Two weeks early, my magnolia stellata is in bloom. Soft, velvet-covered buds one day, and then a froth of white, all of a sudden. My unscientific, highly personal yardstick for its early or late blooming is 'Turin time'. In 2006 we were in Turin from the 11th to the 18th of April. The magnolia was just coming into flower when we left, and when we returned it was over. Turin was worth missing its flowering for, but still, I remember the pang of disappointment at arriving home and realising that it would be another year before I would see my own tree in bloom. (And Turin has been much on my mind recently as I plan another, static blog about that experience. Coming shortly, probably to Wordpress.) The essence of Spring in Scotland is a counterpoint of blossom with echoes of Winter. This is the north, after all. Sunlit blooms against a background of slate-dark sky would be what I would long for if I were ever exiled to the South. And how can this be? Plum blossom, which my mental calendar places firmly in late April. Admittedly my little tree is planted against a high south-facing wall. It's an espalier that got away, going its own sweet way despite my attempts at pruning and training. I am counting the plums we might have this year. Last year we achieved three, and I am praying the gardener's prayer that frost won't smite the fragile blossom even in this precocious Spring.

Instant Spring

or 'Spring in a Box'. This little lot cost me 30 quid, but it was worth it. I NEEDED some signs of Spring, particularly around the front door to welcome us home from what are long days at work and school at the moment.

Looks like I planted them in the nick of time, because we have woken up to snow falling today. Dreary, wet snow, coming in on a raw wind. True winter seems to have been suspended since our December snowstorms. I'm hoping we don't have too much of a catch-up.

Essence of November

Since childhood this illustration has been the essence of November for me. It's the weather we woke up to this morning, and it's this dark, dripping chill of November days that would prevent me ever emigrating to year-round sunshine.

Charles Tunnicliffe's illustrations for the Ladybird series 'What to Look For' (in Autumn, Winter, Spring and Summer) are a double delight for me today. They're a link with the turning seasons, from which I feel cut off in the city. They also show British farming as I remember it as a child - open tractors with metal seats, potatoes picked by hand, stooks of oats and barley dotting the fields rather than huge circular bales encased in black polythene.

(illustration copyright Ladybird Books. I requested permission from Ladybird to reproduce the illustration but haven't had a reply.)

Skywatch Friday - portents

Sunday's blue skies began to change as I worked at the allotment. To the south, all was cloudless and calm, but to the north mares' tails appeared. I felt a sense of foreboding, and checked the netting over the broccoli in the face of what I was sure would be wild weather overnight. The broccoli is coming along well, protected from the pigeons this year.



On my walk home the eastern sky was full of portents too. I was even more certain that we were in for a stormy night.


But Monday morning came with the first white frost of the year, and my first thought on seeing it was that I didn't have my frost-loving winter planting garlic in yet. My second thought was relief - at last some seasonable weather.

More skies around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Not natural

In late February or early March this might be a welcome sight. But in November...? I did a true double take when I saw the daffodils at the front of the plot not only through, but about 9 inches high. This is definitely a new trend over the past 10 years or so. I remember in the year my now teenage son was born looking out for the first signs of spring bulbs peeking through at the end of February. Over the years they've been coming earlier and earlier, but never as early as this.