March: the month of emergings

March 26, 2026 Julie (little Cotton Rabbits)32 Comments

March is one of those lovely liminal months where seasons are transitioning. Days can start with sharp frosts or sleety rain and the feel that winter still is here, or can be bathed in warm sunshine, drawing delicate scent from early blossom and bright bird song from the tree tops. The change from winter to spring is never a smooth linear transition, it is more like the ebb and flow of waves on an incoming tide, each one advancing just a little higher up the beach and March days feel just like this, each one advancing just a little more towards warmth and regrowth and lengthening daylight.

At the beginning of the month the first hedgerow blossoms were opening on the wild cherry plum trees and here at home on our damson plum tree which looked gloriously beautiful and gave great delight for a week. Now, as the end of the month draws near, it is the turn of the blackthorn blossoms. Blackthorn or sloe bushes flower on bare stems with the new foliage opening after the blossoms have faded. This makes for such a beautiful sight, with white clouds of blossom lining the roads and field margins.

The first green shoots of new leaf growth are gradually opening on many of the trees and aconites, anemones and daffodils are blooming under this gradually greening canopy. And this coming Sunday the clocks go forward an hour, which always brings delight, as the lengthening days mean that light lingers until evening. Even when life feels a little heavy these are all hopeful things that bring small joys.

Knitting is happening too. For a while now I have had a plan to take new photos for the front covers of my early patterns and so I’ve been busy making new sample animals and clothing in currently available yarns. As always these days though progress is slow, but a small step forward is better than none at all. I’ll keep you posted on progress and hope to begin working on some new patterns soon too. In the slow and quiet moments of the day I knit socks, mostly choosing patterns that I have knitted many times before, such as this one ‘Lucky me’ socks by Sofia Capelle.

The more years pass by, the more I realise how much comfort there is to be found in the familiar. The familiar turn of one season to another, the familiar trees along our regular woodland walks, familiar routines day after day, familiar patterns knitted time and time again, so much so that they are in my memory. It will sound boring to some, but it gives me a sense of calm and order and pleasure especially when things outside of my control feel unpredictable and stressful. How about you, do you like your routines or do you prefer the excitement of something new?

Well, I’m off to get Toby a snack, so I will say goodbye for now and leave you with the wish that you have a good few weeks ahead of you where you are, see you in April sometime, J x

PS: (added after getting Toby’s snack), I wanted to give you an update on Katsue the fox. I mentioned in February that she had picked up a new injury which looked quite serious, and I’m very happy to say that she is doing well. She is still limping but moving with much greater ease than she was, and though she is still coming to visit most days she’s no longer encamped in our shed and has returned to her den. I still check the shed daily so see if she’s asleep in there but it’s been over 12 days since she moved out and she is now back to coming for her snacks mostly under cover of darkness.

It seems that she will always have a limp in both back legs now but I’m confident that she is managing well and does not need human intervention (other than small snacks). I feel that intervention should always be kept to a minimum with wild animals and that they should not be removed from their family group and familiar territory unless it is a life threatening situation. It is an enormous relief that she is recovering from her injury well enough to live a normal and very wild life.

countryside · foxes in my garden · in the woods · wildlife

February, the patient month

February 19, 2026 Julie (little Cotton Rabbits)32 Comments

If January is a month for hopefulness, then what is needed during February is patience. For there is a promise whispered on the breeze and gently stirring beneath the soil, hinting that change is coming, but not just yet. Because it can feel that February is the most wintry month of all, cold winds, frosty mornings, and almost constant sleety rain have made warm and sunny days feel impossibly distant. But in the truth February is a turning point between seasons, and again I am reminded that it is a privilege to live in a place where the procession of seasons creates a constantly transforming landscape. There is always something new to delight in, and a comforting sense of order and rhythm in the year.

Here at the shabby and monotonous end of winter there is still beauty, even in an unassuming muddy puddle, which is transformed into a perfect pebble-edged mirror by low winter sun, and so reflects a delicate tracery of overhead branches. And the outline of trees with the sun behind them highlights their beautifully intricate structure. Last autumns seed heads still cling to many trees and bushes: hornbeam samaras* hang like paper lanterns from bare branches; swirls of old mans beard, the apt and evocative name given to clumps of fluffy wild clematis seeds, decorate the hedgerows which are still jeweled here and there with hawthorn berries and rose hips. Around the margins of the lake the bulrush heads are exploding in slow motion with the gossamer fluff that carries their seeds away on the slightest breeze. And yet there are also leaf buds gradually unfurling and early blossoms opening, and the snowdrops are a wonderful sight, carpeting patches of ancient, undisturbed woodland and trembling in the cold winter breeze.

*(Samara is a new word to me- it’s the name given to winged tree seeds, ie. those that are windblown such as Maple, Ash, Elm and Hornbeam)

Sometime last week I suddenly became aware that I could hear birdsong again out in the woods. Looking up into the treetops I could see the distinctive shape of a flock of long tailed tits (their tail is as long as their body) and with them larger great tits, as they often travel in mixed flocks. It’s rather beautiful to think that small birds sing their territorial boundary lines, their pleasing song stakes a claim on a small patch of the wood early in the year so that come the warmer weather and breeding season they have secured a good spot in which to raise a family.

Back in the warmth and comfort of home I have been putting the finishing touches to a new pattern – the coats and cardigans for the small 7 inch animals. I have a few corrections still to make but I should be back with a finished pattern next week.

Lastly there has been sad news from the garden. Katsue, the little fox with the broken back leg who has been visiting often since May 2024, has badly injured her other back leg. This happened sometime at the end of December as she missed her visits for 10 days and when she finally showed up she had a large open wound on her right hip and was walking only on 3 legs, mostly her front two and just using her already broken leg for balance. Now the good news is that she is managing and the wound has now healed, but the injury, perhaps a break or dislocation, seems to have left her right back leg unusable and able to bear weight.

She seems to have moved in to our shed – she is able to crawl through a gap under the door and in there she is warm, dry and safe and only a few steps away from a regular meal. She now comes a couple of times a day for food and I’ve been feeding her lots because I’m not sure she can hunt anymore. She’s eating daily meals of cocktail sausages, leftover meat, sunflower seeds, bread, honey and other leftovers. Foxes are great scavengers and they will eat most things that a human can. Anyway, she is managing and choosing to stay close by (though never within reach) and we will continue providing food and a safe place to rest until she chooses to return to her den.

Well, that’s my February, I hope that yours has been good and that you are finding small joys in your days, see you again soon, J x

countryside · crafts & knitting · general stuff

The quiet month of January

January 24, 2026 Julie (little Cotton Rabbits)25 Comments

The new year started off beautifully here, with bright cold days, glory at both dawn and dusk, and even a little magical sprinkling of snow. More recently at this end of the month it has been milder and a little overcast and we’ve now had a good deal of rain, with of course the accompanying mud.

Many people seem to find January a depressing time of year, but I rather like it. January seems to be a hopeful month to me and the time to plan and organise, to daydream of summer warmth and long sunny days, and to look forward to the coming year. I much enjoy my annual ritual of writing all important dates in my new diary, along with notes about the dates for each full moon and other interesting events, and the feeling of being organised and prepared is a nice one, even though it may not last for long. I’ve also enjoyed rearranging our living room after H moved in an old chest that has lived in our hallway for the last 30 years. We bought it many years ago just after moving in to our first home together. At the time it was covered in paint and H spent many hours stripping and sanding and fixing it up, and cursing just a little that I had not fallen in love with a less problematic piece of furniture! Although I have walked past it every day in the hallway it had become just a surface to put things on, obscured by backpacks and bags. It looks much nicer now in a prominent spot in the living room, making the room feel more cosy and homey and looking at it brings back happy memories for me.

My January days have mostly been slow paced, centred around comfort, quietly peaceful, and I suppose a form of cosy hibernation at times. Sat in my comfy little living room I’ve been knitting a couple of small scarves and a pair of wrist-warmers, all in Cardiff Cashmere Classic yarn which is so very soft and warm, and I’ve also been making a tentative return to pattern writing. It’s slow going but I have made a start and that feels good.

Outside Toby and I have had some lovely winter walks, whatever the weather, some days have been cold and mistily atmospheric and others have been bright, beautiful and sparkly with frost. At this time of year I walk with a bag full of sunflower seeds in my coat pocket and leave small offerings to the birds on tree stumps, fence posts and the corners of the benches where we sit for our snacks. Occasionally I’m rewarded by the sight of a bird coming down to feed just after we have moved on, most times it will be a robin as they are the very bravest of all small birds.

I do hope that the new year has started well for you, and there is much for you to look forward to as the year unfurls, J x

Some favourite things about January:

Sunrise, which in January is between 7-8am, and so is not over by the time I wake
Wandering out into the garden at dawn in my jammies (with a big jumper and cosy scarf over the top) and sipping at my morning cup of tea while watching the sun come up. Sometimes I am also delighted by a surprise sighting of a green woodpecker on the plum tree or once by the passing of a flock of lapwings overhead, so distinctive in flight with their rounded wingtips, perhaps 50 or 60 of them flying towards the sun rising in the east, it took my breath away.
January skies are some of the most beautiful, graced by the paper moon or by wonderful cloud formations backlit and edged with silver or gold by the light of the low winter sun
Even though it is still definitely winter, the first tentative signs of seasonal change are emerging; the first catkins are out on the Alder and Hazel trees, and in many other trees the silhouettes of their twigs against the leaden skies now show small raised bumps which are the beginnings of leaf buds. A hopeful sight indeed.