As the seasons ebb and flow, so too does the ever-changing beauty of our founder Lucy’s cottage garden. Each month, she shares quiet musings from among the borders - small joys, new discoveries, and the gentle rhythms of nature as they unfold. From the first unfurling petals of spring to the mellow glow of autumn, these notes offer a glimpse into a garden forever in motion.
The early days of February are often dark, cold and wet, and this year feels no different. After the small rush of excitement at spotting early bloomers back in December, everything seems to have slowed again, with little light and even less warmth to speak of. Still, there are moments that catch the eye. The low winter light slipping through the cottage at the beginning and end of the day, throwing long shadows and quietly reminding us that there is beauty here, even now.
I find myself saying this every year, it’s become something of a mid-winter mantra: thank goodness for the hellebore, nature’s way of bringing much-needed colour and interest to the depleted winter garden. They only get better as the years go by, settling in more deeply and giving ever more generously. I’m more grateful for them each season, reliably bridging the gap until spring.
We have mulched the beds, and managed to get most of the dahlias (which have been left in the ground again this year) and other delicates tucked in just before the snow came. As always, the birds are making a huge mess of it, scratching for grubs and tossing it about, but it’s rather nice to think it’s also serving as an extra winter larder for them. The mulch means the spring bulbs are always a little slower to appear than those in my pots, but we’re beginning to spot small green tips nosing through the soil now, and with them comes that familiar, much-needed flicker of hope for spring.
A lovely recent discovery is that if I harvest a few of my ‘nearly there’ Narcissus Polar Hunter – my earliest flowering narcissi – they will bloom indoors, even before they’ve flowered in the garden. I love the way they make the house smell of spring, and how they look on our tabletop, alongside the odd snowdrop brought in for good measure.
