Unrequited

It's dusk when I write this, my last words of January: sunset technically at 4.52pm, the end of civil twilight at 5.38pm. I can just about see the trees silhouetted against the blue-grey fading light of a mainly gloomy day.

I had high hopes of getting stuff done but it just hasn't work out that way and I'm feeling frazzled by a pile up of unrequited work and home deadlines and hours trying to sort out the Xbox for the kids, which I most certainly have a love-hate relationship with.

Looking for the small things to pull it back: the satisfaction of having managed to write something everyday for a month; the small leaves appearing at the base of the catmint (Nepeta faassenii); the herb garden barrel of five different types of mint that is now making its way back to health after giving it the chop last autumn; the pink and white hellebore flowers peeking out from under their dark green palmate leaves; the first shoot promise of snowdrops, crocuses, narcissi, irises, tulips and alliums; and the increasing number of birds that visited the garden today.

I can hear many birds if not see them – in the day at least – although I have yet to fill out my RSPB Great Garden Birdwatch form with the results of this weekend's watch. Not sure they like the new bird feed I put out as numbers seem to be down, so do I replace their food with their former gourmet option, which self-seeds like mad underneath the feeders, or do I stick with what we've got? Perhaps the best thing to do is make a bird cafe in a designated spot at the front, so it doesn't matter what falls beneath . . . also need to get on with building those bird houses ready for nesting season.

Right now it's time for an early night (am I allowed to go to bed at 5.15pm?) in readiness for a new month, hopes and plans tomorrow.