Last weekend brought a heavy frost to our hilltop, painting the surrounding fields in white.
I wrapped up warm, and braced myself for an hour’s work, clearing the kitchen garden of over-run borage and calendula.
It was warm work, despite the icy air and frost-rimmed garden; my breath flew out in clouds of vapour as I cleared the beds. The borage plants were surprisingly large and heavy to dig out of the cold ground and heave into bags – we won’t make the mistake of composting them ourselves again!
I tried to walk across the grass as little as possible, to avoid damaging it, though it was impossible to avoid entirely.
We had a christening to attend later in the day, not returning until night had fallen, so this stolen hour before the sun had risen far was the only chance I had to tackle the kitchen garden. Such a still sparkling morning, it was a pleasure to take advantage of what time I could outside before duty pulled me away.
Indoors, the unplanted tulip bulbs still patiently wait their own snatched opportunities: sadly I suspect the weather may not be on my side this coming weekend, but I hope…