It’s a one point five meter cube. It contains every bit of wood or tree or branch that has arisen since we have been in this house. Over four years. Nothing leaves this garden except produce. All prunings are either composted, shredded or if they are too big for the shredder, chucked on the woodpile. This keeps the stored fertility in the garden and provided a home for all sorts of tiny creatures, and possible spaces for hedgehogs and other small mammals and nesting birds.

I saw nine long-tailed tits in the garden today. They were passing through, looking for insect eggs and tiny spiders and other small goodies. They have little round bodies and long tails, and chatter constantly to each other, often moving in large family groups.

It’s not raining or snowing at the moment, but it is quite cold. I have not managed to get out into the garden to do anything yet this year. I feel a bit shut in, over-contained, and both ready to go out and do something, and not at all ready. Next week. Definitely next week. I know this time of year, it is suddenly March. No warning and I wake up and it’s March. There is a lot I need to do in this twilight time.

I had almost written this blog without talking about writing it. Ignore this paragraph and I will have done. I just wanted to say what a struggle it is to write it this week, don’t know why, but there it is. Just saying. Thanks for putting up with me!