AFTER all the mist and mud of those grubby December days, the first crisp, clear nights of a New Year provide a joyful if chilly contrast.
At night, a Cheshire Cat moon smiles down on silvery woods, the stars projected with crystal clarity on the night sky, turning it into a glorious outdoor planetarium.
But it’s on those morning walks that the pleasure is most keenly felt, when the sky is aglow with orange and gold and the landscape is full of colour once more.
Countless literary works celebrate the first golden rays of the sun peeking over the horizon as a symbol of renewal and rebirth, the “mellow blush of day” banishing the fears and worries of night, and it’s easy to see why.
Spectacular sunrises make us reach for our smartphones to capture the fleeting beauty of the moment in the same way that our ancestors searched for the right word or phrase to capture the ethereal glory that accompanies the pulse of a new day.
A symbol of hope and enlightment, beauty and illumination, dawn sees the canvas of the countryside splashed with hues of gold and pink as the landscape awakes to the promise of heat and light.
And with these first sunny days of 2026 people are out in force to make the most of those all-too-brief rays of sunshine, the parks filling up with families and dog walkers eager to enjoy the novelty.
It may be cold, but their reward is the chance to savour the countryside in glorious technicolour, rather than swathed in mist or drizzle.
At times the colours hark back to those wonderful hues of autumn, even if the undergrowth has all died back. But that won’t last long, we fear.
Word is that there’s even colder weather on the way, so we’d better soak up those lukewarm rays while we can.
Of course it’s not long into the new year before there’s heavy snow sweeping the country and causing widespread travel disruption.
In the Chilterns, the blizzard is brief for most: a picturesque dusting of white reminding us of Mary Oliver’s wind-bird with its white eyes summoning clouds from the north which thicken and fall into the world below “like stars, or the feathers of some unimaginable bird”.
But while we’ve been spared snowdrifts and flooding, the frosts have been cruel and uncompromising. The glitter is picturesque, but it’s the sort of bone-chilling cold that brings an icy sheen to pavements and roads, striking fear in the hearts of learner drivers and fragile pensioners.
As the sun rises, it’s enough to burn off the frosty layer and bring a deceptive appearance of warmth to those picnic tables in the park.
But it’s very much an illusion: even in the sunlight the temperature is sub-zero and we’re wrapped up warm against the freezing wind, with no temptation to linger.
Our canine friends have no such hesitation about wanting to get out and about in all weathers, eager to sniff out news of last night’s visitors, their enthusiasm indomitable and infectious.
And however cold the morning air, there are other creatures out and about too: hungry birds searching for food, a disconsolate white egret plodding along the river bank, a dishevelled kestrel slumped on a post in the park, drizzle falling on his gorgeous feathers.
In a sunlit glade, a deer keeps a watchful eye on the morning dog walkers, wary but too comfortable to move.
On many mornings it’s still grey and drab, with little to catch our attention. It’s a bleak time of the year for those reluctantly returning to work after the holiday season, conscious of the shorter, darker days.
But on crisper mornings when there’s a renewed chill in the air after a cloudless night, the outdoors comes to life again and those colours shine rich and clear and true.
Doubtless the unpredictability of the weather contributes to the January mood swings affecting so many people, but just as unrelenting frosts still set the theme for many morning walks, glorious sunrises help to raise the spirits.
Some writers, like the Pre-Raphaelite poet and painter Dante Gabriel Rossetti, have portrayed this time of year with a shameless idealism, recalling a mythical era of “mighty fires in hall, and torches lit” and capturing images of fellowship, silk sheets and baked sweetmeats.
For other poets it is a rawer month, where the snow “feels no pity” for RS Thomas’s wounded fox or when “every friendly stream” is frozen fast and Death “leers in at human windows” for Hilaire Belloc.
It’s a time when the harshness of the weather may accentuate our feelings of love and loss, heightening the pain of those who are grieving.
Back in 2004, psychologist Cliff Arnall even came up with a scientific formula for the January blues, identifying the third Monday of the month (Blue Monday) as the most depressing of the year, thanks to a combination of factors ranging from post-holiday blues and bleak weather to people’s debt worries and low motivation levels.
But while many charities recognise how hard it can be to remain positive when struggling with feelings of loneliness or loss at this time of year, there are plenty of rays of light in the darkness too.
As well as those glorious sunrises and sunsets we are treated to sneaky glimpses of shy animals and intriguing patterns in the icy hedgerows.
Yes, there are days where the skies are bleak, the paths muddy, the hedgerows bare. But that’s when the sight of a brazen blackbird singing loudly or a red kite whistling overhead can transform our mood.
Or what about that gorgeous little vixen prancing along looking very healthy and well groomed? She’s looking very curious and brave, this formidable night-time predator, approaching close to the photographer, that intense gaze watchful but unafraid.
Though we know foxes for their fear-inducing screams, barks and howls in the night and dog owners despair over the smell of their poo, we also know that they can be intelligent, friendly and playful, with videos capturing them bouncing on trampolines or stealing balls from gardens and golf courses.
Tame foxes are capable of bonding closely with humans and that those cute cubs play like puppies when they are in their “skulk” (a small group that typically includes a mother and her cubs).
This vixen looks well fed and healthy, and her presence and proximity is enough to brighten the dullest of days.
Off she trots, ears alert for any small animals hiding in the hedgerow or high grass, an expert hunter in her element, unfazed by her human encounter.
Catching such glimpses of our local wildlife is good for our mental health, but let’s face it: few of us have ever seen a mole or weasel, stoat or vole. Britain’s wild animals can be furtive and elusive, fast-moving and hard to spot.
Even animals like hedgehogs or hares that might have seemed commonplace years ago are more difficult to stumble across than they were half a century ago. No wonder young people may tend to lose interest in spending time in the great outdoors once they’re past the Pooh sticks and conkers stage.
We know the causes of the dramatic decline in UK wildlife since the 1970s: the threats posed by plastics and pesticides, intensive farming and urban sprawl.
But if young people find it impossible to engage with the natural world, the prospects of reversing the decline are bound to suffer. It’s a thought we ponder after remonstrating with a couple of young girls throwing their empty plastic bottles into the hedgerow.
They stare at us as if we’re insane to care what they do, never mind complain about it. And they certainly have no intention of picking up their litter.
But while it’s easy to despair at the state of the nation or bemoan the rudeness of (some) young people, things won’t improve until we can win over their hearts and minds to love and care for our countryside.
Many young people today despair about their futures and their lack of personal agency. Priced out of the housing market and weighed down by cost-of-living and debt worries, they see a world where taxes are rising and their prospects of living a stable, fulfilling life may seem to be crumbling.
With many battling mental health worries and feelings of anxiety and despair, the disillusionment isn’t just financial, but extends to existential fears about global conflict, the climate crisis and uncertainty about the prospect of inheriting a livable planet for themselves and their children.
If many youngsters feel unhappy and isolated, let down by society and struggling to find meaning in their lives, we somehow we need to convince them that nature holds solutions to their problems and is not just a sad, drab outdoors space to be avoided, despised or abused.
Thankfully there is an army of young naturalists out there able and willing to pick up the baton thrown down by the likes of Chris Packham and David Attenborough.
They won’t face an easy task. But while it’s easy to despair at the scale of the challenge, there’s no better time than in the first few days of a new year to look on the bright side of life: after all, it’s a beautiful world out there, and it’s the only one we’ve got.
