In this bare, cold month it is not surprising that we tune in to any increase in daylight and cling to what warmth we can feel from the weak winter sun.

Before we wish away these quiet, inky days, perhaps it is worth thinking a little more deeply about darkness. We are used to it symbolising chaos and despair, but the potency of the dark sky has inspired artists across time, from an ancient Babylonian boundary stone depicting a starlit sky to the medieval illuminated manuscript Scivias by Hildegard von Bingen and Vincent van Gogh's The Starry Night. The painter Albert Bierstadt's work depicts North American landscapes at night or in twilight; and artist Katie Paterson collects astronomical photos showing voids in the darkest reaches of the sky. If we look closely at Gillian Carnegie's Black Square we see the outline of trees created by thick black brushstrokes. Perhaps darkness is not as empty as it first appears.

In fact, darkness is relative. NASA's black-marble images of the Earth at night contain pinpricks of city lights, showing that there is rarely true darkness. And, looking outwards, the Hubble Space Telescope reveals galaxies of stars invisible to the naked eye in parts of the sky that look like voids. If you find yourself somewhere with virtually no light pollution it is surprising how your eyes adjust and you make out the sense of objects even if you can't fully see them.

If you are in the right place at the right time after dusk in early January, you might see the sky lit up with the light trails and fireballs of the Quadrantid meteor showers, bringing a welcome burst of fire and light. But it is a fleeting show compared to the blazing summer sun, which is why we've developed our own rituals to bring light into the month.

As the light fills out, we begin to see signs of new growth.

Yellow-maned dandelions, nodding hellebores, bright winter bramblings, berry-gobbling redwings and the delicate-looking yet surprisingly hardy cyclamen all add colour and hope to the landscape. The robin's red breast lights up the winter gloom, its song providing a soundtrack for garden chores and frosty walks. And the days are getting longer, however wonky the increments. After the frenzy and indulgence of the Christmas holidays, perhaps mid-January is a time to pause and observe, to look for light wherever we can find it and to remember that it is always held within the darkness.

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