The shortest day

 The last vestiges of jewel-like colour in early June, before finally disappearing after days of frosts then rain.

The last brightness of the season as a few lingering leaves of the climber, Ornamental Grape - Vitis cognetiae - contrasts iridescent pink against the sober green columns of the twining New Zealand native - Muehlenbeckia complexa

​Even in winter as the shortest day approaches, the flamboyant colour of these ornamental grape leaves, still cling to the vine - Vitis cognetiae.
Sometimes called Crimson Glory Vine the iridescent crimson of these lingering leaves are intensified against the sober green of New Zealand native plants.  One offsets the other.  The  crimson of the grape leaves would not look nearly so jewel-like if they did not have the dark green sobriety of native plants nearby to bounce off.  And at the other end of the scale, the dull green of these native plants is enlivened by fragments of autumn colour from the northern hemisphere.​
The plant world sets an example to we unenlightened humans who can't always blend together so well!

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The last golden leaves clinging to Wisteria 'Show Showers' against a threatening early winter sky

A sombre view against a dull grey winter sky. The leafless trees of Hagley Park woodland in Christchurch in mid-winter.

The same Ornamental Grape - climbing further along the front of the verandah - this time silhouetted against a nearby Cabbage tree - Cordyline australis

​​When a southerly storm comes barrelling up from the Antarctic continent in early winter 
​and the last leaves of autumn lingering on the ornamental grape tap against my bedroom window at night in the wind, I don't think  botanically. 
​I think of the words of the Russian writer, Boris Pasternak in the first chapter of his famous novel, Doctor Zhivago.

​"With each blast of wind the leafless trees danced as if possessed, and flattened themselves against the path.  During the night, the boy, Yuri, was woken up by a knocking at the window and the dark room was mysteriously lit up by a flickering whiteness ... he ran to the window and pressed his face against the cold glass .....there was nothing but blizzard, the air smoking with snow.  It was as if the snowstorm had caught sight of Yuri and as if concsious of it's power to terrify, roared, howled and did everything to attract his attention ''.   
Yuri had just witnessed his mothers funeral that day.
"Clods of earth drummed on the lid like rain as the grave was hurriedly filled... a mound grew up on it and a ten year old boy climbed on top.  The boy covered his face with his hands and burst into sobs.  The wind bearing down on him lashed his hands and face with cold gusts of rain..... he was afraid that his mother buried in the open field, would helplessly sink deeper and deeper away from him into the ground"

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The beauty of skeletal trees silhouetted in the mist of a winter morning in Hagley Park .

Such is the power of Pasternaks writing, as he equates the coming of winter with the pathos of a child mourning his mothers death.  His words touch me, so that when I too, see those last clinging leaves  and hear them tapping on my bedroom window at night, I remember Yuri's despair.   Even in the southern hemisphere  a world away from Russia's cruel winters,  I still feel a sense of loss for the season past.  Knowing that that particular season is lost in time and will never come back - a death in it's own right. ​

Deciduous Betula (birch) forest in Russia in mid-winter.

Taiga (Russian coniferous forest in mid-winter)

 We in New Zealand can never know the bleak drama of a Russian winter, as our whole land is not blanketed in snow and ice for months on end, as above.   We might have frost on the ground and cold damp foggy mornings, but apart from alpine areas, the change from autumn to winter is never so dramatic and cruel here. 
Russia's taiga (extensive indigenous forests) covers 45% of it's huge landmass and a big percentage of this is coniferous forest with it's spiky needle foliage .  New Zealand is not part of a great continent as is Russia, but small maritime islands in the southern hemisphere and we too have our evergreen indigenous forest, but it couldn't be more different!  Instead of spiky green needles, our evergreens can be soft and lush, such as soft and graceful tree-ferns, evergreen beech forest, cordylines and nikaus, so winter here is never such a dramatic picture.  With our favourable natural climate and geography, we are also host to many exotic plants which were brought here during 19th century settlement.   So  even in midwinter some areas can almost look sub-tropical.  We don't know how lucky we are!!

A winter picture taken on the shortest day in Hagley Park Christchurch, where native evergreens and exotics combine happily.

A foggy morning in mid-winter along the Avon river in Christchurch. Apart from the mists rising off the river, would you ever guess it was mid winter? When we see native evergreen native plantings on the far bank and exotic eucalypts leaning over the water it could be any season.