A photograph of the Paddock today. For late December, it's remarkably green.

Bare branches are the only seasonal tell-tale, their tracery decorating the scene and at the same time allowing us sight-lines previously masked by leaves.

On this gloriously sunny day, the sky is clear, deep blue; the air is fresh and the breeze is gentle; the college is peaceful and uncrowded; it's lovely to pause for a few moments at the Chapel Cloisters and enjoy the view.

The central tree is the Black Walnut. Behind, on the island, is the Swamp Cypress.

In the distance, far right, is the Weeping Silver Lime and beside it, a faint outline, the Dawn Redwood.

Three Yews surround the Willow-Leaved Pear. Bottom left is the Strawberry Tree.

The scene is framed by the foreground silhouettes of the Smoke Bush (left) and Bronvaux Medlar (right).

"So she assumed a dazed expression when he spoke to her, and then said:

'A view? Oh, a view! How delightful a view is!' " (E M Forster)

Yesterday I listened to a five-year-old as she read for the first time. For me it was like watching close-up magic, an illusion, something I almost didn't believe.

It was a wonderful moment of discovery, for both of us.

Today I listened to the heavy rain as I walked through College. It was a bit like watching close-up magic again as I discovered something new at every turn, branches bowing down to allow me a closer look, the wet leaves glistening brilliantly, showing off their autumn colours.

We see words many times before we learn to read. Plants, like words, hold a world of new discoveries, and even those that I see every day, whose mystery I think I have unlocked, will never cease to fill me with wonder.

(The photo shows Liquidamber, the Chinese Sweet Gum, in front of Old Court.)

Aster, anemone, hosta and rose.

The first line of a poem? A shopping list?

They're a few of the plants that I've seen flowering in the College gardens this morning, all within a few metres of the Jester.

There are other plants flowering too, some of them out-of-season, perhaps in response to temperatures that reached record levels in late September.

I'm tempted to continue the poetic theme to describe the ponds being 'low' this week as the 'flow' is restricted upstream, but I fear that may stretch my license a little too far...

Instead I'll tell you how the water, although lower than normal, is very clear again after Chapmans pond turned a murky green for a couple of days during the hot weather last weekend.

It's a chillier start today and leaves are falling from many of the larger trees. We haven't had a frost yet, but autumn has finally arrived.

"That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang"

We have been buffeted by stong winds here in Cambridge during the past week, most violently yesterday as we felt the end of Hurricane Katia.

A casualty in the College garden was the evergreen Magnolia grandiflora beside the Jester.

At lunchtime a large stem cracked and fell leaving a gaping hole, almost half the tree.

When I tidy up the wound I'll have to decide how best to restore and reshape the tree.

The photograph shows the wonderful large glossy leaves still looking fresh at this time of the year, especially bright this morning as they reflect the autumn sunshine.

It also shows the intricate fruit and at its base a new bud ready to continue the cycle next spring.

At the right-hand side of the picture, just above a large green leaf, can you make out the ragged scar left by the fallen trunk, pale in colour against the dark background? The scar looks small in the photograph, but it is in fact a metre long.

Magnolias can recover from storm damage, so with careful pruning I am confident ours will shoot from the hard wood and soon be grand once again.

The bees are back!

They've been away for a couple of months, enjoying the oilseed rape at a farm on the outskirts of the city.

Today, the hives returned to College and the bees are now exploring their new surroundings.

At first, guard bees emerged to see who or what had been disturbing them this morning. Next, the workers came out, spiralling in ever increasing circles to orientate themselves and to look for flowers.

As you can see, they soon found the lavender in front of Emmanuel House.

It was important for the bees to visit the fields on their busman's holiday, to increase numbers and build up the colonies.

I missed them, and I'm glad they're back.

Last month we didn't get the April Showers I had hoped for.

It's still very pleasant to be outdoors - sunny and warm - but the garden really does need a drink. Some black clouds passed us by today, so we're still waiting for the heavy downpour...

The gardens look lovely at the moment.

Iris are flowering in Front Slips, and the trees whose blossom we enjoyed some weeks back look fresh and bright with their new leaves.

Here in the photo you can see the splendid wall of white flowers that hang from the wisteria just inside the Fellows' Garden gate, and the purple allium with its distinctive spikey flower heads.

It's early April, yet it feels like mid-summer.

The weather in Cambridge is glorious - clear blue skies and hours and hours of non-stop sunshine. Not surprisingly, daytime temperatures have been above average this week and it is unseasonably dry.

Looking at the sky - no sign of April showers!

The College gardens are very colourful at the moment. Daffodils fill the meadows.
Cherry, pear and apple trees are in blossom. And the herbaceous plants which have been hidden by soil for many months are now above ground and seem to double in size each day.

Front Court lawn really looks at its best at this time of year, especially when viewed from the College entrance with the afternoon sun highlighting the pattern of freshly cut stripes. (It's a challenge to keep it looking this good until degree day.)

People are enjoying the gardens in this weather, picnics (and studying) on the Paddock, and though I hope it will last a while longer, some overnight rain would be good for the garden.

Photo: Front Court looking towards Dining Hall and Long Gallery.

If you like pink flowers then now is the time to take a walk to the end of the Great Pond.

Here, bergenias have been flowering for a few weeks; the best I have ever seen. There are hellebores too, and a pink rhododendron near Emmanuel House.

Close by, at the end of central path, a Cherry Plum gently sways in the breeze. Its flowers develop into fruits that, as the name suggests, resemble cherries.

In the summer the smooth, glossy decorations weigh down the branches, tempting those who can reach them.

Photo: Prunus cerasifera 'Pissardii'.

What can you see in this photo, in a corner of the Fellows' Garden?

In the foreground a hellebore.

Beyond, to the right, a glimpse of one of the several small groups of snowdrops, and some heather.

To the left the bold, bright stems of dogwood, their colours made richer by the early morning sun, (though I have not quite managed to capture their brilliance here). And, in the center of the picture, the faintest hint of the white-stemmed bramble.

Can you spot the tree that we planted in the autumn?
Follow the line of the lampost, down through the arching branches of the tall hazel. Malus 'Rudolph', the ornamental apple tree, shows up against the boundary wall.

The wall is impressive. Some sections are two feet wide. How many thousands of bricks have been used, I wonder.

In a city an important part of the landscape is made up by walls. Buildings often determine garden boundaries, dictate design and define views.

Here, in this photo, North Court shapes the horizon, bleached out against the pale winter sky.

It's a bit drizzly and overcast this morning. I'm in the frameyard, a small outdoor plant nursery, cutting down stems, weeding and picking out leaves, moss and snails from the nooks and crannies, between pots, bricks, canes and bags.

The yard is enclosed on two sides by a high wall of beautiful hand-made red bricks, on another side by Emmanuel House and, on the fourth, by the greenhouse and bounday wall. I can't see out of the yard, except through a small entrance towards the Paddock.

I can hear what is going on beyond the walls though.

To my right, behind the greenhouse, buses drive in and out of Drummer Street, an endless whirr of engines and automatic gears. To my left, over the Fellows' Garden wall, there's a busy scratching of spring-tine rakes; the ground under the vast Oriental Plane now looks immaculate, ready to welcome the spring bulbs.

In the frameyard we have several useful bits and pieces, including a rather fine metal roller. The photograph shows the ornate detail of the handle, a rampant lion and the words Royal Garden Roller. I imagine the roller has been used for many years in College, on lawns and paths, and though it is rusty and cracked we still use it today.

Last week as I cleared a small pile of twigs, a few leaves and some gravel from the centre of Front Court lawn, I wondered which fictional detective would be able to work out how the debris got there.

I imagined how G.K. Chesterton, Agatha Christie and John le Carre would have described the investigation, what Father Brown, Hercule Poirot and George Smiley might have said.

You see, it was unusual in a treeless courtyard to have a neat pile of twigs in the middle of the lawn. Of course the leaves may simply have blown in from Chapman's Garden or the Paddock. But what about the pile of gravel?

The mystery is quickly solved when I tell you the exact location. It is where a snowman once stood. The erratics I found on the lawn were the final reminder of a seasonal visitor, transported not by glacial ice, but inside large snowballs rolled across from the Paddock.

Elsewhere in the garden we're enjoying colourful displays of branches on the willow beside the Great Pond and the dogwoods and white-stemmed bramble on the far side of the Fellows' Garden.

Photo: White-stemmed bramble - Rubus cockburnianus.