December

By Peter Conway

Though the low slanting light gives them a rare beauty, sunny days are scarce in December: often the weather is grey and miserable. Thank heavens, then, for Christmas to distract you: cheerful crowds in busy shopping streets, and office dinners or parties.

By the 18th or so everything is shutting down for the festive season, and delicious indolence and feasting await you. But from Christmas Day onwards the mood turns to listless lethargy, and the year end can be downright depressing.

WEATHER

December weather is at its best when it is cold and crisp – days of hard frost and deep blue skies, when the ground is frozen solid and all seems magical. On clear nights, the stars glitter brightly, and the moonlight reflects eerily off the frosted grass. At such time winter seems just wonderful.

But often the weather is just plain grey and depressing. It can be rainy and miserable if westerly winds establish themselves, but the signature conditions in December seem to be dry, not too windy, but with grey gloomy clouds. Urban dwellers turn with relief to the cheerfully lit streets of the city. Along with short days, these make the state of the weather seem of minor concern.

Wet and windy starts to December are not unusual – this was true in 2002, 2003, 2006, 2007 and 2009. On 7 December 2006 there was even a tornado in Kensal Green, London. Temperatures during this time can be remarkably mild – as much as 11-13 degrees in 2006, for example, though 7-8 degrees might be more typical.

Often high pressure then sets in from around 17 or 18 December (these are the original ‘halcyon days’, incidentally – a period of fine weather around the winter solstice noted by the ancient Greeks). Whether the high pressure brings sunshine and frosty nights, or just grey skies depends on where the high pressure is and the direction of the wind.

A good example was in 2007, when high pressure set in for a longer than usual time – from 10 to 21 December - and produced a good number of frosty, sunny days, but also some gloomy grey ones as the high pressure zone wriggled around over the near continent. In 2006, high pressure from 17 to 23 December resulted in thick fog from the 20th to 22nd, disrupting flights at Heathrow.

Sometimes high pressure dominates the whole month, as in 2001 and 2005 when the weather was predominantly sunny throughout December. In 2005, for example, December had over 20 sunny days and only four days with rain, leaving reservoirs in the south east of England very low after a relatively dry autumn.

2008 also saw highs dominating, with temperatures of just 3-4 degrees by day and hard frosts overnight – the coldest December in thirty years, according to some reports. There were 12 fully sunny days in the month, and another eight had some sunshine. The exceptions were two brief periods of westerly winds from 4-5 and 12-13 December – the latter day (sadly, a Saturday) being one of torrential rain. It was also mild – up to 13 degrees - from 17 to 25 December – but then the month ended on a very cold note again.

Snow is unusual this early in the year, but one notable recent exception was 2009, when after a wet and windy start to the month high pressure set in on 13 December, and became centred to the north west of the UK, bringing easterly winds. There was sleet on the 16th, 2cm of snow on the 17th, and 10-12cm of snow (up to 20cm in Kent) on Friday 18th. There then followed a glorious weekend, when the sun shone but temperatures remained 2 or 3 degrees at best, as low as minus 3 degrees in London at night, and as low as minus 10 degrees in rural areas. The snow did not melt, remaining on leaves and branches even in the sunshine.

There was another centimetre of snow to the north of London on the evening of 20 December 2009, and big snow fall causing major disruption in Hampshire, Berkshire and the Chilterns on 21 December. Temperatures remained cold, with the snow unmelted even on 23 December and a widespread hoar frost. Slightly milder air started the thaw that evening, but snow still lingered on the ground until Christmas Day in places. The south then had no further snow in December, though it continued further north, and on 29 and 30 December there was very cold rain in the south east that fell as sleet or snow in the Midlands.

In 2005, there was also snowfall down the east coast on 27th, including several centimetres in Kent that stayed on the ground for the next three days. London only had a dusting, however.

Most years, however, Christmas is neither white nor wet, but just grey. It is unusual to have a December when some of the days between Christmas and New Year are not sunny, but in 2007, when westerlies returned at the end of the month, only the 29th was fine. In other years, 28 December is for some reason often a sunny day. In 2006, 27, 28 and 30 December all saw partial sunshine, while New Year’s Day was also sunny. In 2008, there was sunshine from 26 to 30 December, and in 2009 there was sun on the 27th and 28th.

The 21st is the shortest day, of course, but interestingly it is not the day with the earliest sunset: that honour falls to 12 December, when sunset is at 3.52 pm. It then creeps later, reaching 3.56 pm by Christmas Day and just after 4pm by the end of the month. By this time, there is actually useable light until 4.30 pm.

By contrast, dawn continues to get later right up to the end of the month and beyond. On 12 December it is getting light at 7.56 am, but by Christmas Day that has crept forward to 8.06 am and it remains that late until the end of the first week of January. This is the time when you wake in the dark and are amazed to discover it is nearly 8pm. By 17 January, it is still only getting light at 7.58 am, while dusk is at 4.24 pm, with useable light nearly till 5pm.

Strangely, by this time one has almost got used to the short days and long nights. The days when one could be out in the light till 8pm, or wear only a short sleeved shirt or lie on green grass seem so distant as to be almost dreamlike. One sees a photo of the countryside taken in summer and it is a shock how bright and cheerful everything looks.

Even early in the month, the sun is so low that the shadow of one tree stretches right across the park at midday. By 1.30 pm it is below treetop level. The low angle of the sun means it is easy for it to be obscured by low clouds on the horizon, even if there are blue skies overhead. But if the horizon is clear, December can produce the most magical of dusks. Though the low sun shines into your face, you do not feel the need to shade your eyes. Somehow every drop of sun you can soak up at this time of year seems precious.

In contrast to the low sun, the moon is at its highest in December, seeming to be almost vertically overhead. This makes for entrancing scenes in the countryside on frosty nights.

NATURE NOTES

• The quietest month for nature
• But a good time to identify birds and see wild animals
  

Click on any photo to the right to see it larger, and to see more December photos. Also Wikipedia is a good source of more information and photos of items mentioned below.

December is the deadest of all the months in the natural world, but it is not entirely lacking in things to see. With so many plants in hibernation, it is interesting to notice those that are still active, and the lack of foliage – along with the absence of too many other walkers - makes this is a great time for seeing birds and wild animals in the countryside. The lack of foliage also opens up views that are otherwise hidden, and the branches of trees reveals their structures, which look evocative silhouetted against the late afternoon sky.

That is assuming that the leaves have in fact fallen. In 2002 and 2003 leaves lasted on the trees into December, and in 2005, beech, alder, maple, London Plane and especially oak leaves were in evidence as late as the 11th of the month: the first week of the month in this year saw some of the best colours of its long slow autumn, indeed.

Even in 2006, when the leaves largely fell in late November, December still saw some lingering weeping willow, London plan, maple and oak leaves (the latter turned brown).

The woodland in winter

Once the leaves are gone, buds appear on the trees, seemingly ready to burst open at any moment, but in fact not due to do so for another three months. One can amuse oneself by identifying the trees from these buds – ash, for example, has black buds and twigs that turn upwards at the end; female ash trees also still have bunches of dried keys on them. Meanwhile, horse chestnut has sticky brown buds, and other trees can be identified by the dead leaves that like beneath them. The outlines of oaks are also very distinctive.

Meanwhile, hazel and alder have already put forward diminutive versions of their catkins, which will open fully in February – alder is easily recognisable as the only tree with both catkins and cones, while the myriad straight shoots rising up from the ground on a typical hazel tree are also very characteristic.

The twigs of certain varietes of white willow have a distinctive orange tinge (more noticeable in sunshine), while weeping willow twigs turn a more yellowy colour. You can also look out for the round balls of mistletoe high up in the branches of trees – particularly poplar, but also lime, ash and sycamore, among others

In theory the woodland floor should be bare, but right from the start of the month the shoots of cow parsley, goosegrass and nettles (see January) can start to appear (this happened even in the cold December of 2008). Mud remains a problem for walkers, making paths slippery and even tedious. But on cold frosty days it freezes hard, and it is briefly like walking on dry summer paths again.

Signs of life in the hedgerow

Hedgerows are drab and brown in December – but not entirely. If you look closely you will see that some shrubs and plants have not lost their leaves. Black ivy berries, for example, are just ripening (some earlier in the month, others later: ivy seems to be a variable plant).

You might also notice that privet (both the garden version, and the wild variety, which has more pointed leaves) still retains quite a bit of foliage, and sports black berries where it has not been trimmed. Other shrubs to preserve some leaves include budleia, elder and bramble, while bizarrely climbing honeysuckle can sometimes be seen coming into leaf, for all the world as if spring was here.

You can still see berries, though as the month goes on many are eaten by birds. Those of the spindle are a distinctive shape and colour (pink), and you also can’t miss the white spheres of the snowberry, which have in fact been there since August but suddenly stand out now that the plant’s foliage has gone. Other berries you might the red ones of holly, the black ones of buckthorn and the long red strings of black bryony, another hedgerow climber.

There are also the fluffy white seed heads of traveller’s joy, which give it its winter name of old man’s beard, and notice the bright red twigs that mark out that otherwise little noticed shrub, dogwood. Late in the month on heathland, gorse can put out some tentative yellow flowers.

Winter flowers

Even those hardy survivors that carry on flowering into November have died away by December, but there is one flower that comes out this time of year – the strange winter heliotrope, with its pink flowers and enormous rounded leaves, which can be seen on verges. Not really wild but found in gardens and some parks, is the winter-flowering cherry and you also might see winter jasmine (yellow flowers on a bare-stalked bush).

A good time to learn native birds

The disappearance of foliage is a boon to birdwatchers. Suddenly all those great tits, blue tits, goldfinches, chaffinches and blackbirds can be seen as they feed busily on trees and bushes (See Wikipedia or the RSPB website for pictures of these birds). Some birds lose up to a third of their body weight keeping warm on cold winter nights, so it is a race against time to feed up enough during daylight hours.

Despite this, birdsong also seems to get a bit more prominent in December, particularly on sunny mornings. Is this because birds are glad to see the sun, because they are keen to tell rivals that they have survived the previous cold night, or just because we tend to be up with the dawn on December days?

Whatever, as in November, great tits make a variety of sounds, but you can also hear the occasional one bursting into its see-saw mating song. This is not sustained, however: you might get a few minutes of it and then the bird stop. But take note of the sound as it will fill the woodland by the end of January.

Another bird that sometimes seems moved to sing is the song thrush, whose elaborate song, repeating phrases, is otherwise more associated with spring. Late in the month I have also heard lone male blue tits and dunnocks performing their mating songs from prominent perches, though both were a bit early. More commonly, you see blue tits in flocks, zipping and rasping away to each other as they feed. Goldfinches and greenfinches are other communal birds that make delightful contact calls as they feed, and the restless long-tailed tit – a ball of fluff with a long tail – lets out regular (but almost inaudible) high-pitched squeaks.

The most sustained birdsong in December comes from the aggressively territorial robin, however, whose twittering song can dominate early in the morning. Their fearlessness when confronted with humans and the fact that they choose obvious perches overlooking open ground (on which they pounce to feed) makes them one of the easiest birds to spot.

Other bird sounds you might occasionally hear include the laugh of the green woodpecker, and the drumming of the greater spotted woodpecker (a tactic to attract a mate, which more properly belongs to January and February). Blackbirds don’t sing, but they indulge in prolonged bouts of tup-tup-tupping towards dusk, presumably to mark their territories. Chaffinches can make chink-chink sounds, but great tits also make a very similar sound, so they are hard to pick out.

Late in December 2009 I also saw and heard a nuthatch, though again its song was not really an organised one, just an irregular series of ‘wit’ noises. These birds can apparently be found mixed in with flocks of blue tits or finches in winter so it is worth looking closely at any such groups you see.

This is also a good time of year to see large flocks of starlings or rooks feeding on arable fields: the former can form great congregations that wheel in unison before they roost (for example, around Brighton Pier, where as many as 25,000 sleep in winter), while rooks greet dusk with a great deal of discordant cawing and flapping about in their tree top rookeries.

Look carefully also at any apparent groups of thrushes that you see, maybe on the ground, or feeding on a firethorn bush, whose orange berries become a favourite of theirs in December), as they may well be fieldfares or redwings (who have a dash of red by the wing just as their name suggests). These so-called ‘winter thrushes’ come from Scandinavia to spend the winter in England. So too do siskins, a yellow finch that generally lives among conifers but can be lured into alder or birch trees in winter.

© Peter Conway 2006 - updated 2007, 2008, 2009 • All Rights Reserved • From his South East of England Almanac