It rained again, not heavily but persistently, the sort of fine, sifting rain that would make you very wet indeed if you spent all day out in it. I walked down to the neighbours' houses to deliver their Christmas cards and met nobody except for one neighbour's arborist son in the distance. It was a relief to see that I hadn't actually left a muddy tyre track on the other neighbour's grass when I reversed on to it by mistake taking round a thank you card the day after his lunch party. I was afraid that I had, and it would have rather negated the point of the card to have knackered his verge delivering it.
When I went up to the village to buy more stamps there were no other customers in Budgens, and the young man behind the counter had the sad air of retail staff on a quiet day, when thoughts turn to whose hours are going to be cut if it goes on like this. I suppose that quite a few of their customers live in the village and normally walk to the shop, so they probably don't bother on a day like today unless they have to.
We still have not caught a rabbit. Something has been nibbling at the carrot in the lower trap, either mice or slugs, demonstrating that is a perfectly good carrot, only the rabbits don't fancy it. The Systems Administrator agreed to set the wildlife camera once it stops raining, so that we can see what the rabbits are doing. They might be ignoring the traps, or downright suspicious of them, or not currently active in that corner of the garden. They seem to move around.
I did catch a mouse in the greenhouse, the first victim this winter of the electric zapper. I felt sorry for it, having no personal animus against mice, but most of my pots of miniature tulips and fritillaries have been eaten for the past two years and my heart is hardened against mice living in the greenhouse. I was so concerned about it happening again that every pot of dwarf bulbs is protected inside a propagating case up on the staging, and the lids of some of them are sealed down with gaffer tape. The electric zappers are on top of the cases, so I do not think the intentions of this mouse were pure. It's not as though it was just sheltering from the rain down on the floor.
In the back garden the Daphne bholua are coming into flower, but their intense, spicy perfume was barely detectable in the drizzle. Three days ago when it was dry the smell was piercing. If I were more organised I would keep a diary of when things first come out, but I don't. I tried once and was bored to idiocy, consequently I don't know if this is early for 'Jacqueline Postill' or about normal for our garden. The shrub is suckering enthusiastically so never mind articles suggesting a width of four feet, we are going to have a thicket. I potted up some suckers a few years ago and planted two along the edge of the wood, which were still alive under the nettles when I weeded there in the autumn. My idea was to have the scent drifting up to the bedroom window but they haven't flowered yet. Maybe next year. Maybe next spring we will get our first flower on Magnolia campbellii 'Charles Raffill'. You need a dose of optimism on a wet December day in rural north Essex.
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