Winter: please define

This time a year ago we were dealing with the snow brought by the Beast from the East.  For the last three days we have had lunch out on the terrace, the grass has had its first February cut ever and I’ve been drying the laundry outside on the line.  It’s set to revert now to something more like a February/March pattern, but it has been lovely while it lasted.  I have sown lots of flower seed today: dwarf antirrhinums, marigolds, cosmos, penstemons and rudbeckia.  Mr Sutton’s seed packets are a bit of a mix: I got the merest pinch of rudbeckia seeds, and something like 2400 antirrhinums.  The rudbeckia ratio is surprising, given that I harvested millions of them last back end.  We’ll see how the bought and harvested batches compare.

Mental gymnastics

Slightly startling experience the other morning.  The postman had to ring the bell to deliver a parcel, and addressed me in German.  The other item, in its clear plastic wrapper, was a German language magazine I subscribe to.  The rest of our vestigial conversation continued in that language.  I suspect that he, like our usual postie, is Polish, so I’ll try Polish next time he rings (my Polish just about runs to ‘good morning’.)

Art club was quite good on Thursday: Martyn and I each finished a couple of pieces for our current topic, Heritage.  Martyn has done a picture of a narrow boat navigating a canal, and I’ve done a little view of a UNESCO World Heritage Site, the upper Douro valley at Pinhão.  I’ve made a start on a piece on another UNESCO site, the Canal du Midi at Le Somail, and I think it’s going better than the last attempt on the subject.  I’m setting myself modest targets, using up the last of a batch of little 8x6 canvases that I got for our show last year, so spend only a couple of hours on each.

We joined some of my co-hobbyists last night at the Mayor’s quiz at a school over at the county town.  Most of us are knocking on retirement, but we had a younger clerk on the team, and she was definitely our secret weapon and saving grace: we came joint fourth out of 40.  Anyway, it was a cheerful evening as always (though the questions were for the most part a bit easier than we’re used to closer to home).

I consulted Via Michelin before we set out, and Monsieur Bibendum recommended a rather tortuous route on narrow  roads.  This was not altogether welcome in misty conditions, so we opted for a slightly less direct but simpler route home afterwards.  Whatever, we made it unscathed, but I have to say that my appetite for driving, particularly after dark, is fading.

Cautious optimism

The worst of the winter may be yet to come, but there are enough signs of spring to make some impression on my normally gloomy February outlook on the world.  (It would be nice if one could say the same for politics, but that's not my department.)

We have had a few nights of bitter cold, including the last couple of Wednesdays, which means that we have had to head out early on Thursdays to get the heating on in our art club venue.  Still, it is a huge comfort to see the days stretching out a little, and on sunny days it's been possible to do a little gardening and other outdoor pottering, so a few of the roses are fettled for the start of the season, and I've established where I need to get some sealant into the dripping gutters when we get some dry days (though I have to say that I'm unenthusiastic about ladders these days).

The biggest bonus of sunny days is the chance to have lunch in the sitooterie.  By midday, the temperature has usually crept up to a balmy 22° under the glass, and it is such a pleasure to enjoy the sunlight.  Today we've been watching buzzards soaring over the nearby woods - as well as the steady stream of traffic into Gatwick and a few transatlantic services overflying at altitude.

Just below the conservatory windows the yellow crocuses and snowdrops are in flower, and there are timid signs of colour on the polyanthus in the tubs on the steps.  Out at the front, it's time I put the geraniums out of their misery.  I've brought the basket round to the cold frame to see if there's a prospect of cuttings, but there I'm less optimistic.

Bring spring

I loathe and detest this time of year, thus justifying tautology to myself at least.  Still, there are some signs of spring: the snowdrops are coming into flower, and other bulbs are starting to show signs of life.  While we wait for the buds on the cornus to emerge, we can at least enjoy the bright red bark, a rare streak or two of colour in the February garden, particularly when the sun shines on it.  A trip along to Hartfield for a lime green one soon, I think.

The snow has at least gone for the moment, but I was glad of four wheel drive on my trip to the hobby last week.  To be honest, it was only really useful for getting out of our street and into and out of that of the colleague I'd offered to pick up, since we used the main roads rather than my usual country lanes.  I was able to use my usual route again yesterday, finding it flooded, as usual after the thaw.  Nothing too dramatic: maybe a tyre's depth.  But on the way home, some arse in an Astra came through the largest puddle from the opposite direction at enough of a lick to raise a wave of mud that went all over my car, leaving me blinded until the wipers caught up.  I'm rather hoping it was a petrol car, and that the electrics were drowned.  I know: my generosity of spirit knows no bounds.

After art club today, Martyn took the car along for a wash - fortunately the complimentary one after the requisite number of stamps on the loyalty card.  I was having my eyes examined meanwhile: the annual inspection.  Evidently, though pressures remain on the high side, the nerves look healthy, and the pressure readings haven't changed significantly over the years since I was first referred to the clinic, so the optometrist has discharged me, and just told me to have a normal sight test and examination once a year. 

As for the art efforts, Martyn did another nice floral piece, in the foreground, rather more formal than  last week's.  I knocked out a quick canvas of the ruins of Whitby Abbey.  It was rather harder work than last week's little Swiss landscape, but it does nod in the direction of our current project theme, Heritage.  The ever creative Joan brought some delicious shortbread biscuits, so ars gratia artis shows itself in many forms.  We'll perhaps invite Miss to come and preside over a project crit some time next month - and hope that Joan will have been baking again!.