The Dark Is Upon Us

The biorhythms of this country girl are, I think, unusual in that I'm not a lark or an owl, but someone whose best hours are 4.00 in the afternoon till about 8.00 in the evening. This is when most people, I think, are having their daily dip in energies. This is when I get going, both at home and at work, where I always stay late, while others are flagging at 5.00.

If I don't get into the garden till 4.00 then I'm fighting and fighting for daylight which is now going at 6.00. It's utterly depressing, but I've only got myself to blame. I got caught up in sitting by the lovely warm Rayburn all morning, reading ancient newspapers and waiting for the rain to stop, and then tonight I was racing to get all the green tomatoes out of the greenhouse (which gets frost), cut some grass and rake leaves while Venus came out on the southern horizon. It is very mild, but it's going to go to -2 Celcius on Tuesday night, and that could be -3 here in my frost pocket. All my lovely massive geraniums have to come in, too. Oh for space. Oh for the warm greenhouses and potting sheds of my dreams.

All my life I've tried to change my rhythms and get up at dawn and get going, but I only do that when I have to, for work. I was terribly aware this year of the clocks going back, and at last have learnt how to remember them. In October it gets dark which is bad, but we get an extra hour which feels really fab. In the spring we lose an hour, which we can ill afford, but oh that lovely light in the evenings, and the song of the blackbird.