The Wine Widow and Jack Frost
Burges Field, having featured on page 2 of the FT and page 16 of The Times the following day, has, it’s fair to say, made national news. Are these the worst frosts we’ve ever had? Certainly the worst since 2020 but as I write, it’s too soon to tell.
The bougies have been lit six times by the incredible team of about 20 volunteers but I, I’m ashamed to say, have not been one of them. I hung up my boots last year, citing age as cause for retirement. This is very poor on my part. In the evenings Zam watches the weather, hoping for cloud, for specific wind direction, refreshing the hour to hour forecast of dips and speed of dips, while we try but fail to talk about anything else. I go to bed and sleep soundly. But in the morning I am more than a little ashamed.
Better I think, not to mention that the runner beans and courgettes I planted out last weekend are blackened and shrivelled, that I regret cutting back the penstemon, that I’ve moved various plants back into the greenhouse, that various other young plants have miraculously survived….
