May: the fairest month of all

May 22, 2026 Julie (little Cotton Rabbits)22 Comments

Peak spring arrives with May, and it’s beautiful out there in the countryside. Although as this spring has been a very dry season many of the trees have noticeably less leaves, so the canopy is currently quite open compared to the full density that you would see after a damp spring. I keep hoping for rain, and we have had a little in May, but not nearly enough.

The lack of rain has also affected the orchard, where there the apple blossom was a lot more sparse than I have seen in some previous years. The hardy hawthorns though have been glorious, and in full bloom from the beginning of the month. The hawthorn tree is woven into folklore and social history, and prevalent in the countryside. Lone hawthorn trees have long been viewed as portals to the fairy realm, and to cut one down was considered to bring bad luck. And the hawthorn also symbolises love, fertility and protection, with medieval May brides often carrying a posy of hawthorn blossom, also called May blossom, or wearing it in their hair, and branches of blossoming hawthorn hung over doorways to invite luck and prosperity in for May day or Beltane at the start of the month.

Hawthorn also has an English traditional rural name of ‘bread and cheese’ as the plentiful and tender new shoots were foraged and eaten by country folk in bygone times when winter food stores were running low. There is a lane near to one of our walks named Bread and Cheese Lane which still has many hawthorns along the hedgerows there.

Although there seem to be less leaves on many trees the oaks have noticeably larger leaves this year, some almost the size of my hand. Last year was a mast year for the oak trees and they produced enormous numbers of acorns, which takes a huge amount of tree energy, so in the year following a mast year they concentrate energy into leaf and branch growth rather than seed production, which is why many oak leaves this year are supersized.

The hornbeam trees however seem to have decided on this year for their peak seed spreading, as most are festooned with delicate samaras, the winged seeds that will disperse on autumn breezes, they look so pretty swinging from the branches.

Back at home there has of course been knitting, some work on patterns, and more socks. The pair I’m currently working on are knitted in precious stashed yarn from the Wool Barn (sadly Maya is no longer producing hand-dyed yarn) and I’m leaning into my slight obsession for simple stripes. I am playing yarn chicken and hoping that I have enough of the soft blue colour to finish the second sock, it seems to be running out more quickly that anticipated

Most of the rest of my free time is still taken up with rebuilding this blog, though I am now only a single years worth of posts away from completing the task. You may remember that my former blogging service typepad closed with very little warning last October and although I was able to import all of the written posts into this new blog here I have had to manually go through and add in all of the images to those posts. There are over 900 posts, and thousands of images so as you might imagine it has been a very time consuming task. But it has also been a rewarding one and I have greatly enjoyed looking back over the last 19 years worth of images. Something that hit me quite hard though was how much life has changed since Toby left school and looking back at images of how family life used to be brought into sharp focus how much less time I have these days to spend on the things that I used to enjoy such as baking and gardening and just pottering around, but I am now trying to weave those small pleasures back into my days again.

Seeing the pictures of how our garden used to look here and here, full of plants and small creatures, made me realise just how much I have missed having a pretty outdoor space that is helpful to nature. Gardening has been absent from my days for quite a few years now and the garden has become a little neglected, so a few new plants have now been added, along with a small bed of herbs, it is a modest start but it will hopefully continue.

Our neighbourhood has suffered greatly from habitat loss over the last 10 years. When we moved here 30 years ago every garden had several small trees and lots of shrubs and most had vegetable patches and varied flower beds. As the older generation have died or moved away these mature and wildlife rich gardens, sometimes lovingly tended for 40 years or more, have been completely decimated by the new neighbours in favour of fence-to-fence lawn (in some cases even the plastic kind) and decking and one neighbour has entirely paved over the whole of their back garden. Gardens are such a vital habitat and source of food for all manner of insect, amphibian and small mammal life, and although our garden is small, I hope to make a better space for nature to flourish a little here at our home. There is at least one wild creature that does enjoy spending time in our garden, Katsue the fox is still a regular visitor and continues doing well after her injury earlier in the year,

Well, I’m off to water the new plants, they need it with this lack of rain, until next time keep well and happy, J x

countryside · crafts & knitting · foxes in my garden · in the woods · spring · wildlife

March: the month of emergings

March 26, 2026April 29, 2026 Julie (little Cotton Rabbits)34 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 · winter

February, the patient month

February 19, 2026April 29, 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