I find in winter that I think of my garden in a series of glimpses. Most of the time we’re indoors at home, just glancing at the landscape outside the windows, but preferring to warm ourselves in front of the fire. Sunrises come and go with the frost. Most seeds are sleeping under the soil waiting for the spring. But if I look there is much life and colour. Crocuses and hellebores flowering in sheltered corners. A fox hunting. Wild birds moving from hedgerow to feeder and back. And when I walk from car to door and door to car sometimes the winter wind brings with it the sweet fragrance of the Daphne and honeysuckle blooms.
The inhabitants of cities suppose that the country landscape is pleasant only half the year. I please myself with the graces of the winter scenery, and believe that we are as much touched by it as by the genial influences of summer. To the attentive eye, each moment of the year has its own beauty, and in the same field, it beholds, every hour, a picture which was never seen before, and which shall never be seen again.”
Ralph Waldo Emerson from Nature; Addresses and Lectures (1849)