Autumn has turned to winter in the blink of a Long Dog’s eye.  A fortnight ago I was harvesting chillis for jam and last weekend I walked the dogs over crisp frosted fields, under coppered leaves glinting in the sun as they somersaulted from the trees. 

But now it is cold, wet and dark; the trees are skeletons under the sky’s grey shroud.

It is the end of the calendar year, but also the start of the horticultural one.  I have sown sweet peas ready for summer and now the first tips peek from the duvet of their compost in the cool greenhouse, like tiny benevolent Grinches.

The frost has knocked back the last of the summer blooms, but the sweet peas are safe for now, in their glazed home, readying themselves to take centre stage (or table) in July.