Outside the kitchen window, an alarm call alerts me to an unexpected presence. Glancing out, the movement catches my eye. It seems I have a new neighbour. Russet brown against white snow. A weasel pops out of a hole formed between snow and wall. A hastily run out and then back in again. Then again. Head pokes out first, trembling. A quick dart to the side, out of sight, under the snow. Then a return, running low, grey mouse in mouth. It shimmers up the snow bank, and then down under the oil tank. At least under there it will be dry, and sheltered from the worst of the elements.
Category Archives: enjoyment
8th February
The snow continues to fall. Over the top of my knees today. I declare play-time and head out, wrapped up warmly. I clear a path to the woodshed, piling the snow in one heap. Then time to be creative. I pat down the snow around the hump, creating a snowman. Then another lump for a head, patted firmly in place, snow inserted to support the neck. A couple of old branches for the arms, some gravel for the smile. Twenty minutes of simple pleasure, before nose and toes grow numb again.
30th January 2021
The night’s frost has left a sugar glaze on the car windows. Scrapers out and heating on, skating around on frozen snow. The car slides down the freshly ploughed track, one wheel on the tractor tracks for traction. Then right turn, and foot on the accelerator to get up the hill. A thick line of snow and ice runs down the centre of the road, crunching underneath. The passing places have disappeared under mounds of white. Sharply upwards now on to the main road and I am safely on my way home.
29th January 2021
We walk across the field, snow up to the top of our boots. The setting sun paints the scenery pale gold red, glowing in the later afternoon. Mountains are silhouetted against winter blue sky. Between the beech trees, the snow has drifted into fantastical sculptures, curved by the wind.
26th January 2021
The ice is back, thickly coating the streets with frozen snow. I venture out briefly to dust off the wall where the blackbird perches, scattering some birdseed for her. The sparrows are fluffed up like little balls of fleece. The robin watches me warily from his perch on the log pile. The chaffinch shrieks his objection from the rowan tree. This is my place, he seems to say. Retreating back inside, I stand at the kitchen window, hot tea in hand, and watch the birds descend.
22nd January 2021
Up the hill today ‘the rock of the oak trees’. A steep winding path heads upwards. Patches of snow and ice lay in the open spaces. Elsewhere, the lea of the hill gives shelter from the worst of the ice wind. The winter sunlight shines down, filtered through the bare branches. Last year’s leaves bury the path, a slippery trap for the unwary. Slowly I pick my way along, until the view opens out. The snow dusted foothills loom across the rooftops in the valley. Up above, a bird of prey circles, searching for movement below.
20th January 2021
The snow came again last night. Waking, I sense the hush outside, sound absorbed by the white coating. The morning blue light reflects from the ground. I head out to clear the car. The grass is covered with bird prints, from pigeons who hang about under the feeders, to the blackbird that hops along. A rustle comes from the ivy-covered wall, and out pops the robin to say hello.
19th January 2021
Trying to avoid the frozen path, I head home across the golf course. The hoar frost is sticking out on the bushes, spikes in all directions. Autumn’s last leaves are outlined in white, and the blades of grass each have their own decoration. Each step has a soft crunch of accompaniment. A skating rink has overtaken the greens, melted snow now frizen solid. No way round. I slide my feet over the ice, one by one, carefully placing my stick ahead of me. Skating along until I reach the rough with a sigh of relief. Up now, through the birch trees, silver black in their winter dress. Then homewards bound for lunch.
18th January 2021
A cold and icy trudge around the village today. The pavements have been ploughed and gritted – one of the delights of living up here. The paths by the golf course, river, and old line are too frozen to risk. There are quiet joys in the pavement walk. Lights and decorations up in windows, displayed on this dark day. The first hint of green emerging through the snow. Twinkling frost on walls, glittering silver. Friendly chat across the street. Dogs coming to greet me, while their owners stay at a careful distance. Such is life in this small community.
17th January 2021
I climb the hill, puffing as I go. Sticking carefully to the edges of the path, where the grass provides some grip beneath the ice and snow. Up to the seat, where the mountains are on display. Pink tinged in the early sun. Then climbing further, past the old curling pond, ice so thick my pole can’t penetrate it. Up to the old trackway, under the trees, where patches of snow have faded to frozen mud, and the stream trickles by as I walk. In the conifers, a bird shouts an alarm call as I pass, and high up on the hill another bird sings out in reply.
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