I WAS breathing out great clouds while wrapping the olive tree against the cold.

It was about 6pm when I remembered the task I had been ignored for too long.

This standard grown specimen has been sheltering on the patio against a south-facing wall but was left exposed during the dusting of snow which fell in this garden during the cold snap.

Varieties of Olea europaea hate the cold, as you would expect from Mediterranean natives.

I have a pot-grown tree about 6ft tall that I hope would suit a sun-drenched patio in the Peloponnese.

There are cultivars which will tolerate our grey skies and wet winters, but you know as well as I do that our olive trees are shadows of their peers grown in sunnier climes.

Their small silvery leaves are designed to stave off the searing heat, reflecting the sunshine and persuading the water in the plant to stay where it is.

So I felt a bit guilty wrapping up this misplaced plant against a bitter wind.

It has grown leggy because of the cool growing conditions but, thankfully, is still leafy. Some plants lose all their leaves in extreme cold.

Experts at the RHS say that even mature plants, which are fairly tolerant of frost, will be damaged once temperatures dip below -10°C. We are lucky that it rarely happens in the South West.

Even then, damaged plants should re-grow, but flowering and fruiting performance will be reduced that year.

My pot-grown tree is less than willing to flower or fruit in any case. But that is feed related, I think, not the weather.

Other Mediterranean plants in this garden, on the other hand, do not seem to mind our cooler climate.

Cyclamen coum is used to the exposed mountainous areas of the eastern Mediterranean and finds that January to March is the best time to flower here in the UK.

I love these little plants under the shade of the trees.

In common with most spring flowers, they hanker close the ground and are the lovelier for it.

The sky had turned royal blue by the time I had finished my chores.

The stars were out and the moon was full. Bright enough to cast shadows across the garden.

It is in this contrast of black and blues that the evergreens and trees become the bones in the winter garden.

One of my favourites is Sarcococca confusa — or Sweet box.

The shining leaves offer structure but it is the tiny white flowers that are the real stars.

These inconspicuous beauties hang below the branches but you cannot miss them.

The scent is astoundingly potent even against the chilling effect of a winter wind.

It made for a spiky form while the spidery shadows of the Eucalyptus gunnii stretched westwards like spilt ink.

There were flecks of light in the pond and reflected on the shiny surfaces of the stone wall and cobbled steps.

The garden was transformed and strangely full of light, the reverse of a sunny day. Petrified with cold and steely bright.