Snowdrops at The Vyne, Butterflies at Wisley offer respite from winter

What a grim start to the year.  According to UK Met Office statistics, our local area got between 250% and 300% more rain than the average; the wettest January in England since 1910.  There were fewer than 40 hours of sunshine in the entire month.

No wonder we greeted February with joy, especially when its first weekend brought two days of clear skies.  I had to get outside and drink in that hope that spring was coming.  Fortunately, there were great options nearby.  The local National Trust property is swimming in snowdrops and, even if it had been raining, the Royal Horticultural Society's gardens at Wisley are offering a tropic excursion under glass.

Of course, the glass houses at Wisley are always there to offer refuge and lush greenery.  At the moment, there are some special guests.

I have no idea how they've done it, but for a limited time they've filled the tropical part of this horticultural cathedral with hosts of butterflies.  You spot them the moment you push through the strips of rubber shielding the doorway.  Black, white, brown, yellow and startling blue, they flit through the air so effortlessly they seem more like bits of paper tossed on the wind than living creatures.  You can never photograph those, they move ceaselessly and with madcap speed.

Yet slow down and peer between the leaves, and you'll spot them at rest.  Attune your eyes.  Concentrate.  Look past the oversized leaves, cascading orchids and showy hot pink floral spikes, and you'll spot something even more beautiful.  Some rest with their wings opened flat, others with wings proud above and behind, and most … once settled … remain still and oblivious to the hoards of gawping humans.

It's a photographers delight.  There were plenty of us looking for the right shot and the perfect angle while enjoying the views and the sun.  But the real focus here is the kids.  If I had any, I'd make it a priority to get them here.  The show organisers have done a great job of putting informative boards throughout.  There are cool and rather creepy oversized chrysalis sculptures; in the room next door you can see the real things and learn about the creatures' life cycles.  Kids can have their faces painted as their favourite butterfly before setting off in search of it.  And I can't imagine a better way to develop observational skills.  The under-12s were quivering with concentration as they sought out the star attractions.

The butterflies are there until 9 March (how they get them all out by a certain date, I have no idea) and the show is part of normal garden admission.  Which means RHS members get in free.  A fabulous, weather-proof idea for these sodden days.

Rain-free skies are more useful for a ramble around The Vyne with the dogs, though not completely necessary.  Our local stately home (less than two miles across the fields, more than five by car) is unusual in allowing dogs up close to the house.  They're so often relegated to NT park and woodland.  At The Vyne you can follow a circular, paved path from the car park, through gardens, around the house, up to a bridge over the river, through a bit of woodland, and back along the river to return to the car.  Delightful views, a good ramble, but the dogs can stay mud free.  Which has been a real challenge recently.

At the moment, this walk is made even better by drifts of snowdrops.  Those classically English heralds of spring remind us, even when winter is at its worst, that our gardens will soon be returning to life and colour.  Our walk was blessed with clement temperatures and vivid blue skies, showing off the magnificent contrast of those stark white flowers against the deep forest greens.

Almost as wonderful on the eye was the abundance of water fowl.  It's good to see someone enjoying the deluge.  The Vyne has some lovely water meadows spreading beside its river; the kind of landscape that, if we had more of it, would probably prevent much of the current flooding.  On Sunday the water sparkled like glass between its gaily waving beds of reeds.  Ducks, geese, swans and others played, chased, splashed and squawked with abandon.

The spaniels, who normally chase any bird out of our garden the moment it lands, weren't interested.  There were too many of them.  They were so happy being outside without getting drenched, nothing else mattered.  Happy dogs, happy birds, happy human.

Internal solar batteries recharged, I was ready to face another grey, rainy week.