frost

A light frost was glittering on the grass when I pulled the bathroom blind up this morning, and I was glad that the plumber had come yesterday to fit the new radiator.  The drizzle that set in yesterday afternoon and was barely gone by the time I came out of my talk had been displaced by what newspapers love to call a blast of arctic air, though it was a very quiet blast.  The front garden looked lovely in the low rays of the early morning sun, dew and tiny ice crystals shimmering in the clear air.  November can be a very beautiful month, when it is not raining or foggy.

The trouble with frost is that the effective gardening day gets even shorter.  I used the enforced hiatus to catch up with indoor jobs like bottling some more honey and sorting out the invoice of my new friend, the plumber, but the ground wasn't in a fit state to be weeded until near on half past eleven, and by half past three it was getting dark.  At least by this stage of the winter the days are only getting shorter very slowly, and with less than five weeks to go to the solstice dusk is within twenty minutes of being as early as it's going to be.  The days are so short, though.  The first spring bulbs will be coming up within a couple of months, and in three or four months the weeds will be growing again.

I chopped down nettles along the side of the wood and stuffed them into old Strulch bags to take to the dump, along with their yellow roots which I dug out with the pick axe.  I carefully dismantled the skeletal remains of several statuesque burdocks, and put their branching, seed-laden tops in sections into the bags as well.  Burdock is a fine and handsome plant, with huge basal leaves and truly magnificent seed heads, but their giant burrs are a menace anywhere near a long haired cat like Mr Fluffy.  My immediate aim is to clear the ground around the wildlife pond so that I can finish planting my budget hellebores, a stray Sarcococca that's been sitting around in its pot all summer, and maybe the tray of variegated box cuttings.  Then I'll have to see how far I get.  I've got pots of seed raised Solidago and Gaillardia waiting to go in the meadow, if only I could clear the space for them.

Last night's frost has properly blackened the dahlia tops, so I now feel free to chop them down in text book fashion.  That could be a job for the morning.  There was a sky full of stars tonight, so there will be another frost tomorrow.