2026/3 - Beware Blizzards!

 The first week of January threw us a curveball. Here we were, reluctantly resigned to warmer winters without ice and snow, and then it first started freezing, and then snowing as well. Until it turned into a whiteout in the early morning of January 7th.

Mind you, Hunky Dory is very near the North Sea, so we always have less ice and snow than folks further inland. So whilst people were skating in many places, here ice fanatics had to get into their cars to search for places where they could skate.

We just had slush on the water, and then slush on the streets. Until, suddenly, it started to snow in earnest. At first folk were happy. Snowmen! Get out the sleds for the kiddies!

But happiness soon turned into dismay, for underneath that pristine snow in the streets lay a layer of ice. Cars were skidding, trains and planes stopped moving, buses were cancelled and the entire country came to a standstill. We are not prepared for this kind of weather.

I checked out my allotment on a day when I still could, where all was as well as expected. The Ixia finally gave up the ghost, so the only colour left was from the Hebe and Malus, refusing to budge.

This was before the snowstorm, obviously! 

Jan. 5th. The 'oh, snow, lovely' phase.

Jan. 7th. at 10.00 a.m. It hardly gets light!

Snow

In my country we have different words for snow. What we had at first we call 'wet snow' (natte sneeuw), because it melts away immediately, as opposed to 'dry snow' (droge sneeuw) which stays on the ground and looks pretty. Today definitely is a dry snow day! And then there is 'powdered snow' (poedersneeuw), very tiny snow pellets, not to be confused with hail. And kids have another category: 'snowman snow' (sneeuwpopsneeuw), meaning it sticks together well so it can be sculpted. They also have 'porridge snow' (papsneeuw), totally unsuitable for snowman building.

Birds 

The birds, who up till now have mostly found their food in the woods nearby, are now visiting me more often.

 They check out Puck and me, decide we are harmless, and then eat. The Jackdaws rule, and the Blue Tits and Coal Tits have to wait their turn.

(I took these photos on Jan. 1st)

They are fun, and very vocal. I always imagine they are nattering away amongst themselves. "Oh, those peanuts are running low! I do hope she'll go to the shops soon. And I prefer that other brand of peanutbutter, don't you?" And right now, when they are tossed and turned by snowgusts (but fly all the same, unlike our planes!) "Bloody hell, how am I supposed to land in this weather? Watch it mate, you are too close, you moron, too close!"

Jackdaws play a major part in my books, because they are ever present in my life, as there is a huge roost at the end of my street.

Apart from that, there is not much greenery to talk about...My favourite nursery has announced they are shutting down after spring of this year. Shock, horror! They are retiring, and nobody wants to take on the work. So then I will be thrown to the lions...meaning I will have to resort to the large, ridiculously expensive and not-organic other ones much farther away. I almost cried!

I'll leave you with two of my forest paintings, simply because there is no other greenery this week to speak of. Sorry!

But it will be better soon, I am sure. In no time at all my bulbs will start showing themselves (I hope!).

Have a good week, and do visit me at Renée Grashoff Schrijft

RenéeGrashoff 

2026/2 - Hunky Dory Dormant? Not quite!

 January is a month when your garden is dormant, when you live in my part of the world. At least, it used to be. When I was a child, we had night frosts, and often day frosts as well, and sometimes weeks of snow. And if it didn't snow, it would pelt you with freezing rain. But those times are gone! Nowadays, the garden is taking a bit of a rest, sure, but there are lots of plants that do not go to sleep at all.

Take my beloved Desdemona rose for example. She says "what do you mean, it's January?" I always deadhead it, but wait with really pruning until March. This year she is refusing to go to sleep. You can tell by the yellowing leaves that she is a bit confused about it all.

The Malus Red Sentinel which I planted especially for the birds (who ignore it) is hanging on to its apples, and keeps on looking gorgeous. If ever I have the opportunity to move to a house with its own garden again* (instead of keeping an allotment), I will make certain I plant a larger version of this super tree.

* I will need to win the lottery for this.

Going strong as well is this Pyracantha "Teton". I treat it with great respect, as its thorns are so vicious that they pierce my leather gloves with ease. I used to have one that covered the front of my old house, and every year a pair of blackbirds would make their nest in there. They were totally secure, my cats did not dare climb the shrub and brave those thorns.

The Ixia are still blooming all over the garden, they will not give up. But from a pale pink in October, they have gone to a hard pink. It makes them stand out against the brown and green. They spread themselves, I planted 10 bulbs I think, and now they are all over the place, and very welcome.

This 'weed' is pretending it isn't winter either. It belongs to the same family as the Fleabane and can be a terrible thug. I tend to pull it out in Spring, otherwise it would dominate my entire garden, leaving no room for other plants. But now, in winter, I am happy to see it, as it brings sunny joy.

My silver Pinus is showing it is very healthy and happy. Although it is growing at an enormous pace, much too fast for my plot really, I love it. It goes to show you cannot believe all information given on labels...this was supposed to be a dwarf variety suitable for rock gardens. It towers over me already.

They are a bit nibbled, but very welcome all the same, my Primula. They appear in our shops in February, and go as a typical spring house plant, and usually I get gifted one or two. Very much appreciated, as I tend to enjoy them as long as they flower, and then move them into my garden to live on  there.

This shrub has gone through some name changes. I used to know it as Veronica as well as Hebe. It is from New Zealand and tough as old boots. Eventhough I cut it back hard every year, as it is getting much too large for the border it is in, it flowers all year long.

This calendula has self-seeded and doesn't take any notice of the chilly, wet weather. Such a cheerful, dependable little plant. It is a great starter plant for children, as the seed almost always grows successfully. Mind you, the allotment mice love to steal the seeds out of my seed trays, as I have found out to my dismay. So it is a lucky thing the plant spreads itself around.

Another plant I really like, or a shrub really, is the Viburnum Tinus. Very dependable, and it flowers just when you need it to, in the gloomiest, bleakest winter months. This one did not like my cloggy clay much, so it took three years for it to find its feet, but now it grows and it looks lovely. I need to help it a bit against the Artichokes, that is true. I planted that entire bed too close to eachother, not realising that some plants would dominate the others. Those Artichokes! They are the garden bullies, they really are.

Garden ivy, common as muck. But look closely at those glossy leaves, with their lovely veins! I deliberately planted it against my fences, for the birds love to nest in it, and insects use it to hide and hibernate. And when it grows too vigorant, I simply cut it away some. And, also very important in January, it stays stubbornly green. I use it for my Christmas decorations every year as well.

I'll leave you with Puck, as she also brightens up my January days. This was when she was in her prime, she is a lot older and greyer now. Next month she has shared my home for 7 years already. She was an adult when I got her, age unknown, and very traumatised. She will never be a happy-go-lucky dog, but she is a great friend.

Every December she gets progressively stressed out by the fireworks, up to the point where on Dec 31st I cannot drag her out any longer. So she holds her pee until all goes relatively quiet (this year that was at 04.00!) and then we race outside. Every Jan.1st we joke together that now WE will make some noise, but she never does, she is much too polite.

Have a good weekend, wherever you are, and bye bye from Puck and me.

Renée Grashoff 

Have a wonderful weekend, wherever you are.

2026/1 - Have you made your green new year's resolutions?

 Not yet? Well, get a move on, then!

My Regular Readers (yes, capitals, as I do adore you) know that I paint for fun. This was my Christmas card for 2025. But it serves this blog.

Shall I give you a hand? With those resolutions, I mean?

Ooh! I know this means I am skating on thin ice, as most people don't like being told what to do (I am one myself). 

Over here we will be lucky if we can try to skate on thin ice this winter, as climate change means we will probably have no ice at all...but that is totally beside the point.

Hm, on second thought, perhaps it is better when I give you MY resolutions, and you can decide if they suit you as well. Here goes:

1. Despite it being a total disaster, as it has sprung a leak, continue to keep up (= fill up) my frog pond, to help out the animals that use it as their water supply during those freaky dry spring/summer months.

 It houses salamanders, so to fill it in with soil would be a crime, right?! But I know the  birds and the allotment cats and hedgehog use it as well.

2. Keep providing for my bees. 

That means building more bee hotels around my garden, and topping up the wood piles, and making certain there are enough pollen flowers around. This bumble bee was taking a lovely nap in the hydrangea, but for food it is a totally useless plant. The 'old' hydrangeas can stay (planted by my predecessor), but no new ones will arrive!

 

3. Appreciate and tolerate my 'blow-ins', even if they are in an awkward position. 

As this wild carrot was. The hoverflies and other flying insects love these visitors from the grass verges around my plot, so they can stay where they have planted themselves. If it means I cannot maintain my grass paths in the manner I would like, so be it.

4. Tolerate, and try to appreciate, the creepy crawlies of the slimy kind...

I know...hard, isn't it? I am kind of lucky in that many of them prefer to crawl to my neighbour's plot, as he grows lush veggies. But still, when they do munch on my plants, I need to remind myself that they have a functional role to play.

5. Only source new plants from sustainable organic local growers, and don't buy flowers for the house, but only grow them myself.

 This means I no longer have shop-bought blousy bouquets in winter to cheer myself up...Mind you, my house is chock-a-block with (flowering) houseplants, so I do satisfy my green itches.

6. Plant more roses.

Oh dear. This is a very selfish resolution, I am afraid. I cannot help myself, roses are my absolute favourite plant. But I do go to an organic grower to get them, promise! And I try to propagate them myself.

Right. Six resolutions are enough to be getting on with, I think.

I do wonder what this new gardening year will bring. Hopefully it will not be as dry as 2025! My garden really struggled, and consequently so did I. But I try to follow the climate as it dictates...if it means a different (more drought-tolerant) garden, then so be it. Us gardeners go with the flow by necessity, right?

As I am writing this (from my lazy chair at home), I can see a jackdaw really digging into the peanuts I hung up for the birds. So far it has been very mild, with only one night of frost. But jackdaws are opportunists that love a peanut. Whilst it is eating, it keeps a beady eye on me. It looks like a young one, who has not yet learned by experience that is has nothing to fear from me.

Have a good month, a good year, and keep gardening!

Renée Grashoff