| JANUARY January - a month of such varying weather, it can be dark and depressing with mornings when we pull the duvet up to our ears, unwilling to face the prospect of a day without proper light and thinking how wonderful it would be to hibernate! On such days, the clouds seem to envelope the stark branches of the trees and the drizzle seeps through to our very souls. Or we could wake to a bright, crisp morning, our breath showing as puffs of steam as we venture outside, sometimes having to shield our eyes from the sunshine dazzling us from both its low point in the sky and from its reflections in roadside puddles. Frost crystallises the brown leaves and earth, giving them a sugar-like coating, reminiscent of the confectionery that we ate at Christmas. Then, the weather vane could turn to the north, the wind blowing straight down from Siberia and we walk quickly on our way, heads down huddled up in scarves and hats, with streaming eyes and red noses. Or snow, silently transforming our dark and dreary streets until we find ourselves living in a magical Christmas card, everyday sounds muffled by this cold white mantle. January can be a cruel month for wildlife. Birds become ever bolder and venture from the countryside into town gardens in their essential quest for food and water. The gulls fly inland, screaming overhead, vying with the garden birds for kitchen scraps. The tiny coaltit seeks out the seeds he secreted away in crevices in the walls and tree bark during the abundant autumn months. While the ungainly wood pigeon hangs precariously from ivy bushes in an attempt to reach the feast of black berries they bear. Whilst, us humans close our curtains, turn up the heating and our thoughts� turn to thick warming soups and baked potatoes, and the cat scorches herself against the radiator. Our gardens become brown and grey, almost void of colour and we feel revitalised and thankful when we discover any brightness. The yellow spikes of mahonia, the citrus stars of the winter flowering jasmine covering its leafless stems, the blood red berries of holly and cotoneaster and the crimson branches of the dogwood, all brighten our winter days. The golden aconites with their green ballet skirts dancing around the base of the skimmia, that shows off it�s deep ruby flowers in contrast with the shy winter hellebore, that holds its face ground ward as if afraid someone might notice its beauty. And the first blue-green shoots of the delicate snowdrop pushing its way through the hard frozen soil, despite all the disasters and tragedies of the world, gladdens our hearts. We, like the two-headed god Janus look back, perhaps with regret, perhaps with happiness at the year we�ve just left, while at the same time looking forward with hopeful optimism and hearts and minds full of plans for the year ahead of us. This is January. �Susan Wooden |
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