This day last year we awoke to snow. Quite a lot of it for Didsbury, so I set off for a walk, child-like in my excitement. I love the way that snow transforms familiar surroundings into spectacular scenery. Any leaf or branch left uncovered stood out in the white landscape and merited closer inspection – a photograph in some cases.

The orange peel flowers of a Witch Hazel at Fletcher Moss looked wonderful topped off with snow. I couldn’t catch any fragrance from it on the air though, probably because it was so chill. The scent of winter flowering shrubs is famously elusive. Walk right up to the plant and sniff it like you would a rose, by burying your nose into the flower, and you probably won’t smell a thing. Winter perfume is carried far on the air, to attract any hardy insects brave enough to be out and about.

Today, any flying insects would be finding it hard to take off with the gale blowing (Storm ‘Gertrude’). This autumn and winter has seen waves of storms crossing the country bringing very mild but wet conditions. It’s been welly boot weather and the misery of flooding for some. A handful of frosts and one light covering of snow in early January saw me digging up my dahlias for storage over the New Year, rather than the usual late October. They were untouched by frost for so long and then it just rained and rained, so any trips to the allotment were abandoned. I also confess to planting my tulip bulbs at the beginning of 2016 rather than the usual November.

On New Year’s Day we spotted a lone daffodil in flower in a scrubby patch while out on a walk by the Mersey. Now I’m spotting quite a few! The annual carpet of snowdrops and crocus has appeared in the last week at Fletcher Moss and lifts my spirits on these dull, damp days. For snowdrops en masse, I’d recommend a trip to Rode Hall near Congleton. The woodland is carpeted with them and it’s such a lovely place to wander round. It’s also the best place locally for taking in the heady scent of Daphne bholua, another beautifully scented winter shrub. Just don’t go when it’s blowing a gale or you’ll miss the perfume.

At Rode Hall, a simple mirror laid on the ground allows visitors to admire the inner beauty of a snowdrop without bending down and touching the flower. A lovely bit of interpretive design in action.