Janus am I; oldest of potentates; Forward I look, and backward, and below I count, as god of avenues and gates, The years that through my portals come and go. –Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, American poet (1807–82)
Janus, for whom January is named, the two-headed Roman god of gateways and doorways, and more poetically, beginnings, journeys and change. Looking forever forwards and back, his was the gated passageway out of the old Forum in Rome through which countless legions would march. These gates were kept open during times of war and closed during peacetime - the latter stage being recorded only twice by contemporary scribes. This month often seems wholly forward focused: the new year commitments, the health resolves, the changes we swear we will adhere to this time, and in gardening terms, the oft cited catalogue browsing, but without looking back, there is little meaning. This beginning, in this garden, is framed wholly by what is there, what is decaying, what might be there and what we would wish to have there. And that makes for a very exciting time.
That sense of holding your breath, of life suspended, dominated in the first few weeks. Deep frosts returned, leaving leaving silvered chains of frozen leaves across the the snowdrop tips. Then came fog, drawing ghostly curtains across the wood and valley, followed by more frosts. You have to work a little harder for your flora at this time of year yet it is still there. The decay in a pile of birch logs left for habitat just off the main ride was a gallery of pattern and life, and every twig and bud has its own beautiful colour and form.
The fauna is, as always here, more obvious: rabbit footprints next to my half-eaten stachys “Hummelo”, odd scrapings near the raspberries, the ravens croaking and complaining in the redwoods next door, and the jays still bickering over their treasure hoards. No young leaves yet for hungry deer, but we await their arrival. Muntjac are now being culled and sold by local butchers around here, so if the two former military gentlemen responsible for this new business were to come this way, they would be most welcome, as there is little love lost for this now ubiquitous invasive species. Closer to the house, the pond by the gate is full again, at last, so hopefully our celebrity parade of newts, frogs and toads will be checking in soon for springtime rituals.
The frosts break and at last the soil is workable again. Breathe out, then in again - life resumes, that suspension is broken as the annual rhythms recommence, and I rework three large borders around the terrace, and sow three types of garlic, plus some shallots in their designated raised bed.
Look forward now, not back, and suddenly Neil is home for good in April, and can take up the reins again in the veg beds, able finally to enjoy unlimited time here after so many years in the Gulf. A time for celebration indeed. Before then, though, we go to New Zealand for a month, an incredible way to bring our time overseas to a conclusion, and a chance to spend time amongst some of the most amazing landscapes, flora and fauna the world has to offer. Janus would be smiling.
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