It has been a week of bright wintery mornings here; beautiful golden sunrises through a fretwork of bare tree branches. My breath comes out in billowy clouds as I clear the windscreen and set off to join my nursing mentor on her rounds. A welcome pile of seed catalogues came thumping through our letterbox last week. I grasped them eagerly, going through the listings, dreaming of warm, summer days and a greenhouse full of plump red tomatoes. It is amazing how optimistic I can feel about my green-fingered abilities in the depths of winter. Anything is possible! Gradually I got myself in check and winnowed my list of seed packet purchases down to a more realistic number. I dug up the last of the celeriac at the allotment this week and weeded the strawberry patch. The green spears of spring bulbs are shooting up through the dark, damp earth. The air was full of birdsong. It was lovely to tramp about in the fresh air, feeling the promise of a new season in every bit of green. But I am getting ahead of myself! It is still January.