I was weirdly determined that it wasn't going to snow, but to keep Tim happy I went and gave the Tree Fern a proper wrapping up and tethered it to the fence. Just as well, as we woke up to this on Sunday. So much for going to London. We gave up on plans beyond walking carefully to the local park to observe the insanity of children (building disturbing hordes of snowmen, then piledrivering them) and dogs. Just as well, the M40 was carnage.
Douglas Firs (the neighbours have the glaucous, easy-seeding, slower-growing variety rather than terrifying lime-green, bolting sterile lelandii) look at their prettiest in sticky snow, like Disney cartoons of fir trees. You keep expecting singing dwarfs or something. Out of shot, the Rhododendron is bent almost double, frost-collapsed. I have to remind myself that this is just what it does, and it will be fine. Hum, what's that on the table? Oops. They're not going anywhere till the melt.
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