Down with the rosemary, and so
Down with the bays and mistletoe;
Down with the holly, ivy, all
Wherewith ye dress'd the Christmas hall;
That so the superstitious find
No one least branch there left behind;
For look, how many leaves there be
Neglected there, maids, trust me,
So many goblins you shall see.
ROBERT HERRICK
January is the month when little can be done in the garden. Sometimes more harm than good is done when the soil is so cold and wet.
But it's a time for dreaming!
To think of what you might sow where and of things you may try that you haven't tried before.
In January, beware the weather - and goblins!!
I've noticed that some people are keeping their outdoor Christmas lights on throughout January. I think that's a great idea to brighten up the long winter nights - and to keep away the goblins!
At the beginning of the month, the house was still filled with Christmas greenery. The fragrance was beginning to fade though. Now, with seasonal oranges so sweet and juicy, there is a citrus scent in the air. Many people still like to make their own marmalade even though some very good ones are available at a reasonable price in the shops.
A little treat, while oranges are not too expensive, is a warm bath to which you add a few oranges - whole but punctured to allow the fragrance to escape. Very cheerful on a winter's evening - and the citrus smell brings summer thoughts to mind.
Hide-away January
Keep cosy and warm
Snow-sprinkled January
Stay in from the storm
Boot-crunching January
Ice-knives in mud
Winter-wind January
Freezing the blood
Log-blazing January
Rest by the fire
Slippers-on January
Dream and retire.
J.M.Cayley
If you've read my other blogs, you'll know that I'm not a fan of snails and slugs. I've tried to love them... but... really?
I recently discovered that, if I rake off the fallen leaves from sleeping flower beds etc., I am exposing the eggs of slugs and snails so that they can supplement the diets of hungry birds.
Why didn't I think of that before?
Here, at Stempster, the second day of January brought a light covering of snow. And then more. Lots more! No chance of even raking leaves - the cold had set in!
There was more snow the next day and alarm bells started ringing in my head. Yes, this looks beautiful - but what about all the small things? The feeding stations may not be enough. So I gave them titbits throughout the daylight hours and I found a deep saucer to keep them supplied with water.
By Sunday we were below zero with even more snow. So much for "it's too cold to snow"!
I was delighted to discover that the farmer's wife also feeds the birds - not just ill-judged kitchen scraps but carefully considered essentials which are distributed in one place for the bigger birds and a separate place for the little ones.
The new week began with more snow and temperatures still hovering around zero. That was the day the trimmings came down and Judith was on Scottish television (BBC) with a speeded-up clip of sledging and a short video explaining how everyone was pulling together. Humorous combination!
Epiphany dawned below zero and with an overnight avalanche blocking the exit through the French windows. There were pretty little icicles on the bird bath there.
Then more snow - and ice - and, later, a slight thaw.
When icicles hang by the wall!
That night, Judith was on the UK national news from the BBC at 6pm and 10pm. Relatives and friends were tickled pink to see her on their screens, speaking from Stempster.
The birds were still in desperate need. I gave them a slice of lard. I normally only buy lard at Christmastime for making the pork pie so they were in luck as I never need the full slab. My goodness - they loved it! Especially the blackbirds. They just couldn't get enough of it.
With the temperature at minus two, the timid birds were getting braver. A tree creeper was seen at the edge of the orchard.
The day the little tree creeper was seen in the orchard was the ninth day of January and our first postal delivery of the year. And there was much rejoicing!
The next day the snow was clearly retreating and, to celebrate, I made the last batch of mince pies of the season.
Pretty enough for a Christmas card
The rain came and helped the snow melt away.
With the rain came the swollen river. That was the day that Mr Quail was euthanized because of his tumour. It was a sad day - especially for Clemency who had given him so much loving care with the kind and efficient help of our local vet. He started to fall over due to the weight of the tumour so to give him rest and peace was the right thing to do.
The drive to Thurso to collect Judith from work was interesting. Crossing the little bridge was terrifying with the river completely flooded. It seemed, when we were coming home, that the strong current was pushing underneath the huge lake of water below the bridge. It was so close to the road. As we turned the corner at the approach to the bridge, I put my foot down - and we almost flew across! Once on the other side, I hoped the water would have gone down by morning - for us and for the other six households who need to use the bridge. I hardly slept that night.
Each time we walk or drive away from the house, pheasants cross our path from our left to our right - that is, from our little wood to the triangular field. Occasionally they will call from our garden or from the wood but most times we don't realise they're there. Clemency found a tufty bit of plumage. She said it seemed as if something had tried to catch a pheasant but had not been able to hang onto it - leaving the tufty bit behind.
In the middle of the month I noticed daffodil shoots peeping through the grass next to the wall around the little wood. The next day Orlando sensed the sap rising! He just positioned himself by the conservatory door, closed his eyes and, with his head up just a little, he sniffed - and you could almost feel the electricity!
One day later, I felt it too. The fresh new primrose leaves in the front lawn gave an emblem to that inexplicable feeling which takes one by surprise at the start of each year.
As if to remind me of the cycle of things, a sparrowhawk visited at breakfast time. I hate that they take my little blues and the other small friends who come to us for nourishment. Nature has its own way of keeping my feet on the ground. It's obvious the hawks need to eat too.
A second quail death - and, as we were mourning the loss of Mr Quail the Second, the sky filled with an absolutely stunning display of the Aurora Borealis - the Merry Dancers here - and a shooting star across the diamond studded skyscape.
Just when I was thinking our countryside and its inhabitants could not delight me more, a funny thing happened on the way to the forum! Well - to Thurso actually! Ginny and Judith were on their way to do the weekly shop with me on board, heading to an appointment, when we saw an ermine almost fly across the road in front of us. We were close to Lythmore Farm and it was making its way towards the farmyard. I suppose it was running but it seemed to skim the surface of the flooded road. It was the purest white with just a little black on its head and a very noticeable black tip to its tail. Its long body seemed to ripple as it moved across our vision.
We've seen stoats before. We have one who visits the garden sometimes - but we have never seen a stoat wearing its winter coat before. It felt like a gift. If you think you will no longer be surprised by anything as you grow older, believe me, that is so untrue!
One major feature of this month has been the wind. We rarely seem to be without it. There are days when the wind is so strong that it would be cruel to walk the dogs. One day last week the dogs seemed fine but I was the one who had to turn back well before the end of the walk as the wind was stealing my breath away and making a bit of a liability of me!!!
Last Saturday was our "Lord of the Rings Day". Each year in January we watch the extended versions of all three films. While we were watching Tolkien's wargs here in the far north, our granddaughter on the Black Isle was watching Narnia with wolves - and our granddaughter in France was out that evening looking for wolf prints with a torch and an identification chart. She found deer footprints but there have been wolves around her village! Last Saturday was a lupine sort of a day for the corvids!
That same Saturday, Clemency went out to the chickens and quail and found a merlin stuck in the wire. She fetched Judith to help and together they rescued the merlin but were unable to save the little chaffie it was after. The poor little thing had a head injury which was fatal. I suppose that merlins, being quite small themselves, have to be precise when they hunt, rather than using their size and strength.
A journey south for Ginny and me last Monday started with another sad story - this time it was roadkill on our hillside - a large hare. The hares are not nearly frightened enough here. This seems lovely - until something like this happens. The problem is that they will steadily make their way along the road and permit us to crawl behind them. This works fine for those of us who have patience and a fondness for hares, but not everyone does.
A plus at that early stage of the journey was spotting a short eared owl - after months of not seeing one nearby.
Further south, in Sutherland, we saw a flock of lapwings and two kites at Loch Fleet. The kites are slowly moving further north now.
So, at the end of January, we have snowdrops flowering and bluebell leaves pushing through and spears of daffydowndillies everywhere. There are buds on trees and shrubs and the cyclamen leaves have a delicate beauty which is unexpected in the middle of winter. The blood red dogwoods create a framework in the cottage garden border which runs alongside the kitchen garden wall. There are gaps where mammals keep a look-out for their prey and little burrows where smaller creatures hide when they are afraid.
We find collections of things - like partly chewed wood amongst the trees - which remind us there are lifestyles - other than our own - at Stempster.
Daylight comes a little earlier now and the sun stays up a bit later. The constant chattering of the small birds fades with the daylight, leaving a silent stage for the barn owl and the tawny owl to communicate their presence to us. They are most dangerous when they glide noiselessly in search of their prey.
Work on the farm doesn't stop for a cold January. Last week I watched one of my favourite moving pictures as we drove home from Inverness - white gulls following the plough.
O Christ who holds the open gate,
O Christ who drives the furrow straight,
O Christ, the plough, O Christ, the laughter
Of holy white birds flying after,
Lo, all my heart’s field red and torn,
And Thou wilt bring the young green corn,
The young green corn divinely springing,
The young green corn forever singing;
And when the field is fresh and fair
Thy blessed feet shall glitter there,
And we will walk the weeded field,
And tell the golden harvest’s yield,
The corn that makes the holy bread
By which the soul of man is fed,
The holy bread, the food unpriced,
Thy everlasting mercy, Christ.
from THE EVERLASTING MERCY by JOHN MASEFIELD
George North, in late nineteenth century Lincolnshire, was killing his pig, manuring the land, hedging and getting up swedes in January and, as sexton, he was digging graves too.
Many old people fell away in the winter months. The "good old days", though simpler in some ways, were a struggle for many in the cold months of the year.
January is not without its fun and games however. The world looks to Scotland for Hogmanay and again on the twenty fifth - Burn's Night.
In the Isle of Axholme too, the social calendar begins with Haxey Hood. It has been an annual event for many centuries and was once believed to be linked with sun worship. The date is set for the sixth of January unless that falls on a Sunday - in which case the game plays out on the fifth. In many ways similar to the Ba' Games in Orkney and in some places in France, the Hood involves a lot of pushing and shoving for possession of a "hood". One year the "sway" even moved a car along the road! Cars don't park on the road on the sixth of January anymore!
Traditionally it all began in the mid-fourteenth century when the lady of the manor lost her riding hood in the wind. Local field workers chased it and handed it back to her. As a result she gave 13 acres of land on which a game should be played in memory of the event each year thereafter.
My mother was born in Haxey and remembers my grandma taking her to"say rhymes outside the church" and then was hurried back indoors before the game was in full swing.
Having lived in Orkney for ten years, I am familiar with the Kirkwall New Year Ba' - a handball game with a similar pattern to Haxey Hood. There is a Christmas Ba' there too. The New Year Ba' takes place on the first of January but on the second when the first is a Sunday. Some shops and houses were still wearing their wooden braces across their windows well into the new year. Probably a good idea to keep them there nowadays - owing to the vast numbers of cruise ship passengers who leave little room for local people to do their shopping!
Makes you think about how things change, and yet other things - the simpler things often - are lasting. Many times I look at the news and despair - but then many more times I look out of the window or walk in the garden or in the countryside around my home and, even in January, I find a certainty there - a certainty that there's a time for everything and a hope in all that is under the sun, moon and stars.
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