In the winter, I enjoy cross-country skiing and raising orchids and amaryllises. If I could grow tropical flowers as perennials, I would, especially hibiscus and mandavilla.
In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.
Mama grizzlies mate later than other bears. They have two cubs instead of four. They wait four years – about twice as long as other bears – between having cubs. And after they’re pregnant, if winter is hard or their health is not good or the food supply is uncertain, they re-absorb the embryo into their body.
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
O, wind, if winter comes, can spring be far behind?
The madness of spring is so enticing. I love it when things are opening up and emerging from the ground. I also love the middle of summer when fruit is bursting forth, but I even love the garden in the winter when everything is resting.
I have a very basic leg. But it has a silicon cover on it. I have a flat foot leg, a high heel leg and then I have a leg which, in the winter, I have to ski in and in the summer I swap it into my roller blades.
That last winter was a tragic story and I got no personal honour out of it but I was a witness to it.
Winter lingered so long in the lap of Spring that it occasioned a great deal of talk.
In London the day after Christmas (Boxing Day), it began to snow: my first snow in England. For five years, I had been tactfully asking, ‘Do you ever have snow at all?’ as I steeled myself to the six months of wet, tepid gray that make up an English winter. ‘Ooo, I do remember snow,’ was the usual reply, ‘when I were a lad.’