Many garden writers include a post at the end of every month that chronicles what has happened in their gardens in the weeks before. I’ve just finished reading one from England that turns me green with envy. So many blooms to write about, so much to enjoy.
Not for me. A view onto my garden, Glen Villa Art Garden in Quebec, shows a ground of white, bruised with blue-tinged shadows.
Trees are bare branches scratching the sky. And temperatures have been consistently low. Freezingly low. Too low to make anyone want to venture out into the garden.
Yet despite the cold temperatures and deep snow, on a sunny day there is much to admire. The columns that line the processional walk called The Past Looms Large, part of a larger trail called Timelines, stand out against a pale blue sky.
The painted lines on the posts that mark the hours at the Sundial, on another part of Timelines, are cheerfully bright, and their snow hats make me smile.
The deer tracks that wander through the woods reassure me that others are out, enjoying the snowy world.
Turkey tracks confirm the message.
So do the snowshoe tracks along La Grande Allée, the part of Timelines that crosses an old farm field. The crabapple trees (Malus ‘Dolgo’) wear puffballs of snow that will disappear when the wind blows hard enough.
Winter lets me see the garden and the surrounding landscape in different ways. The shadows of Tree Rings, a sculpture I made to honour the life of an old maple tree, always send a message about permanence and change, but that message is stronger when projected onto a background of white.
The curving line of the Fold in the Field disappears in summer but stands out clearly now.
Even the mounds of snow on the bed at the China Terrace look welcoming, as comfortable as the duvet on my bed inside the house.
Patterns on a frozen pond are feathers of ice.
The view down the stream is a clichéd postcard come true.
A tiny tree on top of a frozen dam sends a message of resilience and offers hope for the future.
Blades of grass laced with snow aren’t as obvious as flowers in bloom, but the subtlety of backlighting is just as appealing.
To me, at least. Beauty is where you find it, where you look for it, where you see it. Last month, I found it everywhere.
Here’s looking at you, owl. I hope you are enjoying the garden as much as I am.
I find I can tolerate much colder temperatures if 1) the sun is shining and 2) the wind is NOT blowing. Looks like you had both conditions for your walk. I’m still trying to decide if the ability to see gardens in other climates at this time of year, thanks to the internet, is a blessing or a curse. Maybe both? It does temporarily relieve cabin fever but also makes it hard to ignore that spring comes much earlier in other parts of the world.
I agree, Kathy. It’s both a blessing and a curse. Today it is snowing hard so seeing green grass would be nice!
I agree, Kathy, the blog posts showing flowers and green grass are both a blessing and a curse. It is snowing hard here today, so I’d enjoy a blessing!
You have inspired me to walk on my land, offer tobacco in the Native tradition and bring my camera. Thanks.
It hasn’t been easy to venture out with the very low temperatures. A few days this week were terrific. But today, the snow is coming down so hard that I prefer to stay indoors.
Dear Pat, you showed us how lovely our own yards and general vicinity can be despite the frigid temps. We are fortunate to have this time to do other less active gardening tasks or just reading with a hot tea. I want to say,I’m glad to see your optimism after the recent loss of your dear husband. It cannot be easy at times, keep up the hope of spring as we are all doing at this time. Gloria from Beaconsfield
Gloria, I appreciate this note. Learning to live on my own takes courage and the garden and land around us help me to find it.
What a beautiful post! I’m reading this in the midst of yet another heatwave in Western Australia and your images carried a most welcome cooling effect. Like you, I don’t want to venture out to garden during the daytime but the early mornings and late evenings are usually enjoyable and despite many scorched, dead and dying plants there is still beauty to be found. The eucalyptus, melaleuca and bougainvillea are flowering, other plants are budding up with the promise of April rain (hopefully) and birds are my constant companions. The garden carries so many lessons of hope and resilience. Thank you for sharing your stunning garden.
Sue, I follow the temperatures in Perth via my son and his family who live there. I can’t imagine the heat you live with. But the natural beauty nearby is a great compensation.
It all looks fabulous = great photography!
I love our hedges in winter, so much so that I have been surprised by the reappearance of flowery stuff sometimes in spring.
Do you have plants blooming now? Snowdrops? (Say no and envy won’t turn me as green.)
MA-GNI-FI-QUE. Merci Pat.
Merci, Françoise.
Love the photos and especially the bed covered with snow.