(sadly not my house)
Winter is most definitely here. The warm spell which momentarily confused my roses into blooming is long gone.
There's not much happening on the gardens surface, it's all below where the seeds and bulbs lie waiting. That's OK though as I don't really have the time yet to dedicate to the much neglected garden. I'd like to sit with my notebook, seed catalogues and gardening books and write lists of plants that would probably never survive and draw grand plans of a cottage garden bursting with herbs. Instead the inquisitive hands of a crawling baby dictate that all my garden fantasies must play out only in my head. That is until baby is old enough to hold a trowel and reliably not eat the soil...maybe when she's eighteen then.
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