SPRING IN NOVEMBER

It probably wasn’t the best moment to go into the garden and take photos - but there’s something oddly drawing about a mid-November evening when the sham spring sunlight has given up trying and the cosy dark of night hasn’t yet made being outside a waste of a good view.

So off I went with my camera.

Having hurt a rib so it’s painful to lean down to the left or reach up to the right . . . I’ve abandoned most garden tasks part way through. There are pots all over the place, bulbs unplanted, leaves un-picked-up . . .

But the nice thing about a garden is that it chumbles on regardless and, just at present, it’s gearing up for spring.

The Bleeding Hearts plant has presented a pink shoot.

There’s a little Red-Veined Sorrel steadying itself to tough out the winter.

The Sedum Cape Blanco is a favourite stopping off place for felines so it never spreads far but, if I pick up the bits and slot them between other stones, they will grow into new plants.

I’ve been neglecting snails. All the big ones (the ones I can find!) have been evicted and, until now, their offspring have been too little to collect without crushing. Now they have got to the just-about-pluckable-if-one-is-very-careful stage, I’ll have to begin my rounds again.

Snails like the Clematis Armandii - and they don’t harm it. Here are a couple on a dead leaf. This clematis is an evergreen but the stems break easily . . . and all leaves have to die one day.

But although snails don’t damage the clematis, they destroy Lupins. While we were away in the summer, they gnawed the first year plants down to almost-nothingness. Some were destroyed but others should last through the winter and flower next year.

It’s been a digging-in-compost season - and, while digging, I’ve been coming across bulbs. Big ones went straight back where they came from but there were so many little bits and bobs of small ones I’ve saved some for putting in pots and odd places. They already have shoots and will need to go back into the earth as soon as I’m in practice with leaning downwards in a way that doesn’t hurt. (It’s just a matter of being consistent about bending to the left. No! Bother. Right.)

There are tiny cyclamen corms waiting to be put back too. They won’t flower until late next summer. They like a lot of water but the feathery green thingy is all that’s left of the Saxifrage after it was overwhelmed by rain. I’ll make it a bed of stones.

And finally . . . not in the least ready for spring but more than ready for picking, a small bunch of grapes. Last year we were overwhelmed with grapes, this year there have been hardly any. I’m the only one who eats many - their skins are tough and the fruit isn’t over-sweet - so I’ve left these here to look pretty. And they do!