I love it once the clocks go back, from the moment we get that extra hour in bed. My sister-in-law, who is a counsellor, once explained patiently that I must have enjoyed being in the womb. As I’m a twin who arrived prematurely bottom first (and awkward ever since), I cannot imagine that being packed in like a sardine was ever pleasurable. No, I love the dark evenings because every year I run myself ragged trying to keep on top of my garden. When the dark evenings bring down the curtain, I throw in the towel with a sense of relief, light the fire and watch Countdown armed with a tray of tea. I know that in ten weeks’ time the garden will awake again like a sleeping beauty. I’m concentrating on collecting leaves from the woodland border where I have already spotted the first tips of daffodils piercing the soil. Normally I leave a fair few leaves around as a mulch, but the slug problem means that large red ones are hiding underneath and little black ones are tucking themselves up inside the leafy layers. Left alone they will nibble my emerging snowdrops and somehow they gravitate to the expensive ones. My ‘E.A. Bowles’, ‘Priscilla Bacon’ and ‘Rosemary Burnham’ were chewed last February. Ouch!

I’m clearing the areas around my witch hazels (named forms of Hamamelis x intermedia) and I can already see tiny fistfuls of snuff-coloured buds lining the stems. I have planted eight in all and the largest of all, ‘Aurora’, is now a spreading shrub measuring six feet by six (180cm x 180 cm). My choicest bulbs are normally planted round their feet. Friends have expressed surprise that witch hazels grow here and questioned me about pH, suggesting that I’m too limy. I have never tested my soil to see how alkaline or acid it is. I’m a gardener, not a scientist. I prefer the suck-it-and-see method: planting something you love and then seeing whether it flourishes or turns up its toes. Witch hazels are eye-wateringly dear compared to most shrubs, partly as they need grafting. Always check grafts when buying (the bumpy bit inches above the ground on the main stem. Always buy in flower and smell them. Some resemble Harpic: others conjure up freesias. Colours vary from red, to ginger, to butterscotch through to every shade of yellow which stands out best. But my favourite, the butterscotch ‘Aurora’, has a flowery scent that transcends my cold garden. Ashwood Nurseries (ashwoodnurseries. co.uk/01384 401996) sell good ones and they will thrive on most deep soil, but not thin soil over chalk. Chris Lane’s National Collection is held on clay in Kent. Open days listed in the New Year. (01795 843098/witchhazelnursery.co.uk) Witch hazels have settled in well at Spring Cottage, although two planted in a drier spot have been slow to romp — until this year. They have loved the wet summer after being stressed by several dry seasons. I expect good apple and pear crops next year too, after all this rain and growth. Last year’s drought led to no blossom here and in many orchards in the Vale of Evesham. My apple and pear dearth wasn’t due to poor pollination, there was no blossom to start with. Now all I need is cold weather — some chill days to encourage round fruit buds. Hopefully a cold snap will deal with some slugs, too.