Amidst the shock and outrage at the fact that it has snowed, in January, in Northern Europe, it’s all too easy to miss its beauty. The way it makes everywhere look different. And makes us see everyday objects differently. Especially in the gardens and parks in the few miles round where we live.
Snow held gently in ivy.
In a black and white world, the flame tree stands out. Greenbank Park.
Into Greenbank Lane allotments.
All is quiet.
Someone else is about though.
We are here. Plot 44, where Sarah and Gemma garden.
Through the lovely gate. Not even the fox has stepped on this snow.
With so much covered it’s the ironwork we see.
The temple bell Gemma brought back from Japan this time last year.
Proud, vigilant and snow-filled.
This piece and the lovely gate were made by Ironwood Motif, David Low and Lindsey Nixon. In fact if you look through their catalogue you’ll find a Sarah Gate pictured. They live and work in France now, but Lindsey often comments on this blog, so it’s like they’re right next door!
Rachel’s Wollemi Pine experiencing its first snow. Seems fine.
Sarah planted this rare Australian tree in memory of her dear Australian friend Rachel. Who died of metastatic breast cancer, aged 41, in February 2012.
No watering needed today.
The woodpile that was the tired old apple tree.
Leaving Greenbank Lane.
And into the splendour that is Sefton Park.
Icicles on the Eros Fountain.
The Bandstand in the snow.
Then, call us cockeyed optimists if you must, we walked on through St Michael’s to see if the Festival Gardens have been re-opened yet. To find that they clearly have, but…
Pathetic. Closing a park because it’s snowed?
So we return through St Michael’s Wood.
Where once stood Priory House.
Containing people who weren’t all that tall?
But not this small. Don’t worry, the foot’s just to give you an idea of relative size.
You didn’t think I’d kick it over did you? As if?
Sarah documented a year on Plot 44, the allotment she shares with her friend Gemma Jerome, here. It didn’t snow once.
You mean to say you let a bit of snow prevent you from doing your usual shining shore Friday walk? Shame! Great photos – I love the way you capture tiny details as well as the broader view. I saw a fox on our allotment the other day – it just stood a few yards off, watching me for nearly five minutes. Wonderful.
Hi Gerry, I think the explanation for capturing ‘tiny details as well as the broader view’ on this particular walk is two cameras. I’m best at the ‘what did this place look like in 1775’ sort of pictures. Whereas Sarah is more ‘I’m sure snow still nestled in the ivy leaves in just the same way.’ So on walks when she’s not with me, I imagine what she’d see.
Lovely walk Ronnie, I love to see the snow like this. It could be anywhere, but can you tell me the location of Priory House? Is that down by St Michael’s railway station?
Yes Stan, it looks like there were a couple of houses in what we now call St Michael’s Wood. Priory House was on the south side of the wood, through the archway pictured above.
Wow! That’s some snow for Liverpool! We’ve had the same here in bucket loads. Amazing how it changes the world & changes what you do in response to it. A bit like an unexpected day off work! Enjoy it! More snow expected here tomorrow. Don’t care. We have piles of wood to burn & the freezer is stocked. Let it snow!
Yes, I think it’s good to change, and to stop and be still. And to get cold outside and come home to a warm house. Simple pleasures more precious than we sometimes realise. x
What magical snow scenes, I like the untrodden paths so white and sparkling clean. Snow seems to add an extra dimension to the landscape, no wonder people are so drawn to snow scenes. I think of my dried up garden soldiering on in the heat and wonder how it would react to a sudden snowfall. I’m pleased to see the Wollemi is bearing up in the snow, although snow may well have fallen at times in the Wollemi’s secret valley far away across the world.
Yes, us freezing in the virgin snow feels a long way from your 40º days in Western Australia!