t’s cold, wet, grey and miserable December. Admittedly, there is the odd clear, frosty, blue sky day to lift the spirits, how we relish those, especially at the moment. As a garden writer, waxing lyrical about the abundant joys of spring, summer and autumn gardens with their burgeoning borders and kaleidoscopic, coloured flowers jostling for centre stage is more familiar territory. Paragraph after paragraph, page after page crammed with glorious descriptions of the seasonal bouquets Mother Nature has gifted us and then winter blows in on a biting, northerly wind and our gardens slip into a
