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

There is something so exuberant and joyful about May, and this one in particular has been sublime as we’ve had such amazing weather, with each day warm, dry and sunny. The dependable sun has warmed the land and Spring has now arrived with a flourish. Everything is freshly green and blossoming, perfuming the breezes with an ever changing array of floral scents. Out in the woods the trees have grown a connected canopy of dense leaves and the lanes that we drive along on our way to and from the woods are once again secret, shady tunnels. It is such a beautiful time to be out in the countryside, so much is happening and every walk we go on brings new delights to see and enjoy. I’ve paid my annual spring visit to the orchard where I spent a wonderful few hours just wandering quietly with my camera. At lunch time I sat by the little pond and watched a pair of Canada geese shepherd their 5 small chicks across to the other side.

Back at home I’ve enjoyed my first garden knitting session of the season, it’s lovely to sit outside again on Toby’s swing and listen to the birds in the tree above me and I look forward to more gently swinging garden knitting time over the next few months.

The highlight of the month though was on May 2nd, when just after 8pm Katsue brought her cub with her for a visit, he’s quite shy but obviously just weaned on to solid foods as he ran over to investigate what his mum was eating. I had to take pictures through the window as he was very skittish and wary of us and we were all enthralled, holding our breath and hoping for the moment to last. I was so pleased that Amy got to see a cub this time as she missed the time that Kit brought her 3 cubs to visit. It seems that Katsue just has the one cub, as we’ve not seen any others and although she’s taking plenty of food away each time the cub has not been back to our garden for a couple of weeks. He’ll be hidden away somewhere safe, and growing a little each day under the watchful eye and dedicated care of his mum.

In knitting news there’s not much to tell. I’m so eager to share details on the latest animal design but I’m going to have to keep you in suspense just a little longer, as it is not yet close enough to being finished. We have however started photography so it is progressing. Once we’ve finished all of the shots and I’ve got the layouts done I’ll be in a position to reveal its identity.

Well, I hope that things have been good for you this last month and that the coming month brings some small joys your way. I’ll see you again in a few weeks with notes of what we’ve been up to in June, J x

Nature notes from May:

• Week 1:  The bluebells are at their peak and filling the whole wood with their wonderful scent. May 3rd, heard the first cuckoo and saw newly emerged damsel flies. Buttercups and cowslips are out in the meadows. Oak galls are visible amongst the new oak leaves, in a month or so they’ll harden into small brown balls, but right now they are pretty and pink.
• Week 2:  Hedgerows are in full froth, with hawthorn blossom (also known as May blossom) thick on the branches above and great drifts of cow parsley below. Saw the first swallows of the season, just arrived from their long journey from Africa. First dragonflies spotted at the Panshanger lake.
• Week 3:  It’s apple blossom time and the old, gnarled trees at the orchard wear their most beautiful attire of the year. A thick carpet of pungent wild garlic covers the floor of the small wood, a beautiful galaxy of star like flowers.
• Week 4:  The great tit chicks fledged the nest box into the big, wide world. Rain arrived at last, not much but so very needed after such a long dry spell, the petrichor smell is wonderful.