Ode to winter

A subtle beauty, with its muted colours and understated poetry, this season holds plenty for the mindful observer

Another turn of the wheel and winter arrives, blowing away autumn’s display of vibrant red, orange and yellow leaves, and turning the landscape into an inky watercolour of bare branches and grey skies.

My daily stroll around the garden requires wellies, a woollen hat, scarf, gloves and a thick weatherproof coat to shield me from cold winds. On frosty mornings, a fairytale landscape greets me: grasses and seed heads coated in a layer of frost sparkle in the pale sunlight, and silvery plumes of miscanthus look as though they’ve been sprinkled with glitter. Grass crunches underfoot, and I exhale small clouds of steam. Birds – feathers all puffed up to keep warm – gather around the feeder, feasting on fat balls and seeds; a solitary robin hops by the holly tree, eyeing the berries and scaring rivals away with his song.

I pause to admire the intricate lace-like patterns traced in ice on fallen leaves and faded hydrangea flowers. A few colourful accents stand out against the subdued wintry tones, drawing my eyes towards fat rosehips hanging from stripped branches, slender crimson stems of cornus alba, and glossy purple callicarpa berries.