In the garden doldrums? It makes what is to come all the more special

I don't think I've ever posted a photo on this blog quite like this. My eye (and camera) is normally so drawn to anything that enchants and intrigues and beguiles. But the reality is that this is what many gardens look like at this time of year. "There's nothing to see here" might well be the caption.

If your garden has areas that look somewhat like this, I hope it is comforting to know that I took the photo this week at what is one of the very best gardens in the UK, if not the world - the RHS's showcase gardens at Wisley. And I could have taken another thousand like it there.

It is no criticism of the garden whatsoever - it is a wholly inspiring place, where I've been able to spend much time over the years observing what wildlife uses what plant. The barrenness is just a fact of midwinter - nature has entered 'down time'.

Even those areas where seedheads have been left standing look very much on the raggedy side.

And as for the tropical garden, parts have been inelegantly mummified against the winter while the bananas stand limp and shredded like the walking wounded or even walking dead.

But I'd far rather gardens went through this low point, because it makes what is to come all the more special. That those bare and disinteresting beds should be harbouring within the soil everything that is needed to become this (below) is a miracle. And with that exuberance of plantlife will come all the wildlife that depends on it. Much better this than the dismal 'supermarket car park' planting that tries to look the same all year round; experiencing the flow of the seasons is a vital part of connecting with nature.

So I wish you a very happy New Year and 2022, and may the flowerbeds of your life - literal and metaphorical - emerge from the doldrums and bloom and buzz in all their glory.