The “Sol Monath” garden

From the warmth of a cosy room behind a window, the garden looks dead and uninviting at this time of year. But for all those that brave the cold wet February weather will know that the garden is anything but barren and lifeless.
The garden in February sees the start of new life sprouting from the ground and to the Celts indicated a time for new beginnings. February gets its name from the Roman festival of purification called “Februa” but I have heard that there is also an Old English name “Sol Monath.” This means “Mud month” which I think describes the month perfectly.
In the garden at the moment, it’s cold and damp, and the faint sun can be seen hanging low in the sky behind the silhouette of tree branches. At a quick glance the garden doesn’t seem that inviting but as I look around I see signs of life popping up around me.
Bright green moss and beautiful fungi are cheering up the damp areas of the garden, and fresh cyclamen leaves are emerging from under the trees. 

Delicate bright green shoots are popping up from the lawn as daffodil bulbs start to awaken, and vibrant crocuses start to bloom.

Hellebore flower heads are just poking up from the ground adding pastel shades to the garden;

whilst primroses and dwarf iris also add a zing of colour.

I have even seen some weeds starting to appear in the bare soil, a sign that I need to wrap up warm and get out there to do some weeding.

Snowdrops have got to be my all-time favourite plant in the garden at this time of year as they symbolise the end of a dreary barren winter and the new beginnings of bright joyful spring.

Their lovely bell shaped flowers weigh heavy with raindrops and they are a beautiful sight to see. It won’t be long till the snowdrops can be divided. Just after they have flowered and the leaves are still green is the best time to divide the bulbs into smaller clumps and plant them elsewhere in the garden. I love dividing plants such as snowdrops and primroses as it is like nature’s free gift to me for all the hard work I do in the garden.

Later on in the day, as I walk around the garden I notice a mole hill that has suddenly appeared in the lawn and there are several blackbirds polishing off some windfall apples under a tree. The tree branches are covered in beautiful lichen, and delicate catkins dangling from the hazel tree are also a lovely feature at this time of year.  It’s lovely to watch them swaying gently on the breeze, waiting ready to drift their pollen into the wind as they seek out a catkin of the opposite sex.

And as I head indoors and the sun sets on the garden, the feathery plumes of the grasses (which have been left for winter interest) are baked in a beautiful warm copper glow.

Life is anything but dull in the garden in the month of February.