A Christmas rose

Although the shops and garden centres are full of Hellebores this one is special as it was one of the first things i planted in the garden after Christmas last year and here is its sweet face to welcome this season. It’s always a delight when a perennial returns and seems well established.  And this garden seems to suit hellebores. 

St Lucy’s day and this poem by John Donne has cropped up a lot.  Apparently December 13 used to be thought of as the shortest day or was the shortest day, not clear.   Bit gloomy John, but evocative. 


Tis the year's midnight, and it is the day's, 
Lucy's, who scarce seven hours herself unmasks; 
         The sun is spent, and now his flasks 
         Send forth light squibs, no constant rays; 
                The world's whole sap is sunk; 
The general balm th' hydroptic earth hath drunk, 
Whither, as to the bed's feet, life is shrunk, 
Dead and interr'd; yet all these seem to laugh, 
Compar'd with me, who am their epitaph. 

Watched the blistering last episode of Succession