It's winter drear, my dear

As though you didn't already know!  Just the word 'winter' conjures up feelings of chill, drab and drear!   In the midst of  July even though we are past the shortest day we are feeling the worst of winter's cold chill!   
Having said that, it's not so much the chilly 'bite' of winter which affects me - as the low light!
Or lack of light which predominates when the days are shorter and the nights longer.  The lack of light affects colour which  becomes less defined, therefore dimmer - you could say no-colour.   And under a dim light everything looks duller and drabber as colour is leeched from your familiar views of the garden - the views you see every day from your kitchen window.  This dimness results in those familiar views  looking more  drab and colourless than at any other time of year and those colourless paling fences looking drearier and more mundane than ever - the look of mid-winter!   Especially so if they haven't been camouflaged with climbing plants or other greenery.

​As if you hadn't already  noticed - at this time of year - everything outside around us, and especially in the garden - reverts to a drab grayish brown - the sky, the trees, the reflections - so that the overall impression is colourless.

Some like to argue that 'brown is a colour'
and I would say it is more of a colour than gray but only marginally!

Evergreen Camellia leaves in winter - looking rather colourless and grey instead of bright green, but those buds - some already showing a little pink, give us hope of spring.

While the larger evergreen leaves of this Michaelia do reflect a little light but with more of a cool blueish tinge rather than the warm golden light which you could expect in Spring or summer.

It's only when the grey clouds part long enough to let through a brief shaft of sunlight that there is a smidgen of colour - the sky becoming a pale colourless blue letting through the shaft of sunlight which may or may not light up the world. And for a moment the grass as in the image above, becomes a bright yellowish green, instead of the more usual dull grayish green! But in that moment our spirits rise and there is hope.

​Even when some leaves remain, clinging to evergreen trees for dear life, their colour is unremarkable, as that drab   green of winter tends to be a dull grayish green - the green of old age - rather than ​the bright yellowish green of  new life and spring growth.  And the low winter light does nothing to brighten them up.

​It is towards the end of June - mid-winter - when the days are shortest and the nights longest that we are most deprived of light.   Yet it still might not be the coldest we will feel, because although there might be some snow on the mountains -  the Southern Alps, which are only 70 kms to the west of us, here in Christchurch, the snow can come and go.    It is not till late July and August that a build up of many dumps of snow can spread, completely covering the Alps and settle.   So here in Christchurch the degree of chill depends on  when and how the snow arrives. 
​

Vitis amurensis or Ornamental Grape Vine native to the Amur River region in the far east on the Chinese Russian border.

​In early winter there are still some remnants of the bright scarlet colour of autumn leaves  clinging to this ornamental grape vine which
​clambers along my front verandah reminding me of more splendid autumn days - now past. 
​

But by midwinter there is nothing left on the climber above the pergola to the side of the cottage!  No reminders of anything past, but only the tortuous vines and bare sterile looking branches of a naked Wisteria vine way up high above your head.  This bare vine though looking useless and  uninspiring in winter, is not there for nothing! 
​Called 'Snowdrift', it is absolutely divine in late spring.  You couldn't believe that those knotty little winter spurs would develop into long pure white racemes of flower in November which  purifies and perfumes everything  - inside and out.  It's long white racemes hanging low so that they brush your face as you pass by.  It may look well dead now, and utterly unpromising in it's nakedness, but I know it will spring into life in  September.  And until then I can visualise and watch the buds start to swell looking forward to the time - still a matter of months when they will eventually open up.

---

​

In the meantime

​ there is lots to marvel at when I go walking in the ChristchurchBotanical Gardens, and one of those marvels is an area  called the Maple Border. It  is one of my favourite areas, as  there is something to enjoy there all year round.

---

As you can see from the photo above, the bare Maples are underplanted with a thick carpet of Hellebores - not special Hellebores or any of the wonderful new varieties which have been developed in recent years by clever hybridisers, but just  Hellebores!   And in such profusion! 
​So the eye is drawn to ground level in winter as it shifts from looking up to the colourful foliage of Maples in autumn, to looking down to the ground beneath where we can appreciate the magic of  Hellebores flowering in winter.

 

A winter flowering Narcissus not afraid to flaunt it's bright flowers in spite of ice and cold - so bright against a grey paling fence.

The autumn flowering Camellia sasanqua 'Apple Blossom' is happy to keep shedding it's petals until the bitter end - leaving a delicate white carpet in mid winter.

In spite of the frosts and drear - there is still some colour, still some brave flowers which dare to poke through the ground and flower  triumphantly in mid-winter.  Even in my small garden!   
An autumn flowering Camellia for instance, not afraid of persisting into winter and dropping it's delicate pale petals all over the ground  lights up damp paved areas so beautifully in mid winter.
​It's interesting - because the bright yellowish orange colour of this winter flowering Narcissus is something I might shy away from in spring or summer as gaudy and common - but in the dead of winter this bright colour  says 'life'.  It's a winter highlight, and it fills me with hope.

This is NOT my garden - oh no! This is the Chatham Islands in summer - but looking as though it might be winter with it's grey skies and wind sheared bushes. Yet it wasn't cold. Windy yes - but what else could you expect on remote islands all alone in the huge South Pacific ocean, hundreds of miles from any land mass.

The Chathams are small, remote and lonely islands stranded all by themselves - out in the South Pacific ocean, hundreds of miles away from any landmass.  New Zealand is probably their closest neighbour - 860 kms to the east of Christchurch.   Whether winter or summer, there is not all that much difference in the climate, because at sea level these islands do not experience snow or frost - just the wind which is generated by ocean currents.   There is not really a  prevailing wind, rather it is a cool oceanic wind  which comes from all directions - and blows a lot, exposed as they are in a huge ocean with no landmass to protect them.   And that is the crux of the matter on these remote islands - that they are so far from anywhere!   
 Yet they have a wind-blown fascination all of their own in their stark isolation.

Most of the native flora of the Chatham Islands has been cut over to develop pasture for farming - the usual story - exploitation of natural resources for survival and profit.   Although farming is one of the mainstays of the Chathams - it is only one!  The survival of the Chathams and their flora is quite another story for another time.  

---