Ah, bitter chill it was …

Every time I set foot out of doors at the moment I’m reminded of John Keats’s poem ‘The Eve of St. Agnes’ which begins:   ‘St. Agnes’ Eve – Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold …’

Here are a few photos of the very cold plants in my garden.

Frosted heather

Hypericum

Raspberry

Oriental poppy

Buxus

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