The grey skies and the angle of the sun in a British January often conspire to wash the colour out of the landscape. Whatever colour remains, that is, after the leaves come down, and the grass dies back. Sometimes we get frost and snow – pretty at first but rapidly greying as well. Our winters tend to lack visual drama. What we get instead is drab, and demoralising. This is why celebrating colour in January is so very important.

There are of course brighter days, when the lower angle of the sun can produce surprising effects. Intensely bright blue skies are always possible. I walked on Christmas day this year, and the combination of cloud and low light conspired to create soft light, filling the woods with unexpectedly warm tones. When there’s any kind of decent daylight, it is important to get out there and experience it, especially if you are someone prone to winter blues.

January for me is also a time for celebrating the human capacity for colour. In our homes, clothes, and creativity, we’re able to put a lot of colour into the world. We also create our own light, and when you think about what a grey winter must have been like for our ancestors, the power of that becomes apparent. That most essential human discovery, of being able to work with fire, on which so much else depends, is at its most obvious in the depths of winter. Without fire, our ancient ancestors would never have been able to survive in these more northerly climes.

It’s often when something is in short supply that we can most easily see its value. Insufficiency can be a powerful teacher, showing us how precious things are. For me, January is always a lesson in the emotional value of colour, and how much I need it.

The image is a tea dragon tea duel by Tom Brown, chosen because it is quite colourful, and it amuses me!