winter dreams

The loch is in a grumpy mood, grey waters whipped by squally winds and flecked with rain. We haven't seen the sun today, just layers of cloud in a permanent grey twilight. The cat, like the loch, is in a strop. There have been strangers in the house (joiners measuring the office), so she has retired to bed and will only open one eye when I speak to her.

We're both tired of Winter and dreaming of Spring.

Smudge is dreaming of wall watch and the dozens of fat mice she is convinced live in the mossy crevices under the bird table.

I am dreaming and drooling over my rhodies, azaleas and camellias. I was worried these plants would not survive the hard frosts. This is rhododendron blue peter, a gift from Mum and Dad last year.

I thought he was going to drop all his leaves but Mum assured me this was just a survival mechanism. He seems to have bounced back.

I hope those big buds haven't been frosted, in a couple of months they should produce clusters of frothy, spotted, lilac which remind me of orchids.

This camellia is a favourite.

It was in the garden when I bought the house, so I don't know its name. In the summer the leaves stick out horizontally like lots of little saucers. It wouldn't look out of place as a plant prop on the set of a 1960s sci fi series.

Here it is at Christmas. I hadn't noticed the leaves curling up like that before, another clever plant way of hunkering down and surviving the cold.

It seems to be recovering, look at all those buds. Come on spring, come on, come on, come on.

New plants. Rhododendron nova zembla, a Christmas present from my lovely nieces, arrived by courier with its compost frozen in a solid block.

I don't know how many days it had been in transit but it must have been in some very cold vans. I didn't think it would recover but it went in the garage, by the window, for a couple of weeks until the temperatures rose and I think it has come through OK. At least it hasn't dropped its leaves, although some are a little frosted. I think I will plant it here, in front of the pampas, above Peter, if the soil is deep enough. It will produce deep red trumpet flowers with dark spots inside, which I hope will complement and contrast against Pete's frothy girliness.

Mum and Dad gave me this camellia sasanqua tanya, an autumn/winter flowering variety.

It produces, small, pink, single flowers like a dog rose and will provide a romantic hint of colour when all else is muted browns and burnt greens in this garden. It is low growing so I think I'll plant it in the gap between this old tree stump and the log edging and hope to train it down over the rock.

Great minds, because I had bought Mum and Dad this camellia sasanqua papaver and (of course) one for myself.

It's another Autumn flowerer. This time a bush plant and supposed to be scented, a thing I miss from my Spring camellias. The flowers are similar to Tanya, a bit larger, softer, pale pink single booms. I'm not sure where to put mine. It prefers a sheltered site with warmth and light and well drained soil. Ho hum, not easy when all you have is a vertical bog plonked in the middle of a wind tunnel. I've been gormless again. When will I learn to buy plants for position not prettiness? I left both papavers outside over Christmas and they froze solid to the ground. I couldn't move either of them, so Mum and Dad had to go home without their present. Amazingly both plants seem to be OK. They did drop some leaves and others are looking a little burnt but they each have healthy looking buds.

I think I have been luckier than I deserve. I should have looked after my newbies better.