January, named after double-headed Roman God, Janus, is a special time for both reflection and anticipation.
(Picture of Janus feasting – from the twelfth century Fécamp Psalter).
For looking back at 2024, and forwards to what the New Year might bring.
The Met Office has just declared 2024 as a record-breaking watershed year for the world’s climate.
“2024 was the warmest year on record globally and the first year that was likely more than 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels: a stark reminder global temperatures are continuing to rise”.
We surely all have to rely on such globally derived and collated data sets to assess climate change trends more accurately.
As a blogger, I can tap into my own dataset of images to pick out what I found appealing or memorable from my monthly blog image folders. Reflecting the particular (and very often challenging) weather we experienced here in 2024. Lower light levels and higher rainfall than usual (2108.7 mm – our highest ever total just pipping the very wet 2015, but being more consistently spread throughout the whole year). More rainbows and more fabulous winter sunrises than is often the case.
Along with this challenging weather came the novelty of a very early frog hunting heron in late January, as a prelude to spawning frogs on February 4th; our best year for lambs (but not the actual lambing deliveries!) as well as a wonderful display of daffodils. A honey bee swarm disturbing our Sunday breakfast in late May; more orchids in our meadows than ever before; a fabulous year for rhododendrons, rambling roses and hydrangeas. As well as possibly unique video footage of drone honey bees chasing a day-flying bat. Before the unforgettable experience of Storm Darragh in early December, which left us without power for several days and has left physical scars on the landscape and which will persist in our memory for a very long time.
January:
February:
March:
April:
May:
June:
July:
August:
September:
October:
November:
December:
What about 2025? Is the sun going to shine, or are as yet unforeseen waves going to crash over us?
Does it bode well that it’s a strikingly unusual number from a mathematical perspective. I know little about such things, but can follow (mostly) what the 2 very different competent mathematical brains explain below, in their very different styles, about the patterns and properties of it as a number.
Would I describe this as mathematical beauty? Those aren’t two words I’d normally consider linking in this way, but I can see their point.
Will the year 2025 be a beautiful one? Or just a bit crazy, and special?
We shall soon find out, but I’m not sure the omens look good, at least from where I’m sitting.
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For 2025, we’re once again going to be opening the garden under the National Garden Scheme for individuals or small groups.
But in a different way. We’ll only be opening on the following weekends, for either 10.30 am or 2.30 pm arrival times:
February 15th and 16th
March 1st and 2nd
March 29th and 30th
April 19th and 20th
May 24th and 25th
June 14th and 15th
July 5th and 6th
For any pre-booked group visit of between 10 and 25 visitors, we can arrange a day to suit your group, during this same period, between February 14th and July 4th.
If you’d like to visit the garden in 2025 on one of the opening dates given above, then you still need to contact us, preferably by email as below, giving us at least 24 hour’s notice, to book a visit.
Either
thegardenimpressionists@gmail.com
or phone: 01558 685119
For more details see this webpage.
As in previous years we’ll have a good range of our more reliable and floriferous snowdrops for sale, (between 60 and 70 distinct forms, some named, some not) as well as a very few other plants for early garden visitors. 
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Rather appropriately, given the very cold snap we’ve recently endured with temperatures barely rising above freezing for several days in a row, it was a delight to receive a free copy of February’s House and Garden magazine yesterday, which has a lovely feature on the garden, under the title ‘Cold Comfort’. 
We’re very grateful to the magazine for deciding to feature the garden and the considerable care and effort involved in producing even a short article like this. So many thanks to the editorial team, and more particularly Clare Foster for the words, and Sabina Rüber for taking the photographs. Several visits in the frankly disappointing weather of the previous two seasons went into crafting this piece. 
I salute their tenacity to try to nail the challenge given the poor light, and it’s always fun to see how others interpret our own long term efforts.
We’ve certainly been grateful too for our woodburning stove this week as much of the UK has seen the lowest temperatures (in Scotland) since the harsh winter of 2010.
Do any other readers see a certain irony that this has happened just a few months after the new labour government removed winter fuel allowances for pensioners?
And also the irony of the apparently preferred shirt-sleeved attire of our Prime Minister, when he’s chosen to address the nation during these cold times.
The thermostats must be set higher in these buildings than we can afford. Or maybe it just feels a bit hotter in these rooms, or seats, perhaps?
But then there’s nothing like seeing your own fuel reserves being speedily depleted, and the equally warm glow of rebuilding them in such cold weather. One of the joys of burning one’s own split logs, or even biomass pellets, lugged in as 10 KG bags. It certainly makes you inclined to tweak the thermostat down just a fraction at times like this, and burn more logs. It somehow feels like ‘free fuel’. Although factor in any concept like the minimum wage for all the time and effort involved in handling it, and it would probably work out being vastly more expensive. But at least it gets you out and active in the fresh air.
Of course, if you don’t have to pay for your own fuel, human nature being what it is, such considerations will be less pressing. Come to think of it, I wonder how many of the current government’s cabinet of ministers have ever wielded a chainsaw, or log splitting axe, on anything like a regular basis?
Probably the same number who have any real world experience of working in a private business. ( zero, for those who don’t know). Does it matter? Well, as the value of sterling sinks ever lower as traders take a punt on where the British economy is heading, and imminent recession looms, it seems that it might. 
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With the garden in stasis during this frosty and sometimes hail shower/snowy weather, the snowdrops that are already above ground are hanging on in there. 
And apart from some more glorious chilly sunrises to appreciate, my photography has focused on trying to capture some scenes of the big starling flock fly pasts, just before dusk. 
After a session in poor light, I produced an initial short compilation video, and then decided to try to track them onwards to their possible roost site, which I think is high up on Mynydd Llanllwni, above us.
The scene at the end of this first video (which I re-used as the beginning of the second one) is the best I’ve ever managed to record. Both in terms of numbers, light and the very clearly audible wing beats as tens of thousands fly overhead.
This meant a bit of a gamble on icy, ungritted lanes, before choosing a site up on the freezing top of the mountain to stand and wait.
With a brisk breeze blowing and subzero temperatures, this was a bit of a challenge, but I was rewarded eventually with perhaps 15 flocks of varying sizes flying past a little to the North of my position.
With temperatures due to rise a little, I’m hopeful that I can repeat the session and eventually end up closer to where I think they spend the night. Before the flocks disperse towards the end of February, when many of the immigrant birds will return to other North European countries. To watch so many birds suddenly appear in the sky and rush overhead at speeds of up to 50 mph, is one of winter’s real delights. We’re very lucky to lie directly in their flight path – at least for this year.
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