Observations

Most of the droplets glisten when they capture the meagre early morning sunlight, others appear opaque. The window pane is littered with static rain beads giving the appearance of pockmarked glass. Then when the fast moving grey clouds curtain the sun, the droplets become almost invisible allowing my eye through the distraction. I now watch the trees in the garden are dancing in the brisk breeze, it fluctuates from a gentle flip of the lighter branches to whole tree contortions. 

We have a stained glass plaque in the window and at the moment, brief flashes of sun sing through the colours scattering speckles of colour on the glass.

Himself left for work while it was still the last drifts of darkness leaving the cat and me in bed, his parting shot - I'd stay there if I were you. So we have. Although I suspect I will be up long before the cat.

The hyacinths in the lounge have both decorated the room and the air with their delicious scent and blue flowers however they are beginning to fade and I am sorry to see them go. It will be another ten months before we have them up on the mantel and in the window again.  Primula have been brought in to fill that hole.

The cat is rhythmically snoring beneath Himself's aged lumberjack shirt - one reserved specifically for gardening and tucking around a cold sleeping cat.

I can see, but not hear, the wind chime in the garden twirling around in the wind. It is an elegant spiral of tubes which normally share a gentle chime as they tink against each other. Today I suspect it is more of an angry clash than a melodic background sound. The blackbirds do not seem to care. They are busily foraging around the plants and bird feeder breaking off only to chase each other around and across the garage roof.

I plan to paint once I have posted this. I  can feel the compulsion to sketch and run a watercolour filled brush across paper. It sometimes feels like a rising tide which I used to suppress - somehow 'adulting' seemed more important - but now I heed that urge.

Life is for living.

snapshots and scents

The plan was - get up, shower, strip the bedding then stick on the washing machine, finally sitting down with a mug of peppermint tea and toast..... The first two happened fairly smoothly, that is until it came to pulling back the duvet only to find the cat firmly burrowed beneath Himself's warm padded shirt. I hesitated. Her eyes were so firmly shut it felt quite disrespectful to disturb her. Instead I worked my way through the wash basket hoping that by the time I was ready to pull the bed apart, Pan would have decided to get up and leave me to my chores..... not a chance.

So I carefully untucked the corners of the sheets, gently pulling them to the centre. This produced the 'ears of annoyance' and the 'frown of disapproval'. I stopped. This time, I slowly pulled the duvet to the now bared mattress - this was considered inappropriate behaviour and I was given the sharpest of glares. 

How is it I have been reduced to a timid char lady to an elderly cantankerous cat?! 

I tried again, this time she poured herself out of the nest she had created and slipped off the bed and away with a rather cross flick flick of her tail.

Later.....

Chores done, breakfast eaten, carpets briefly tickled with the vacuum cleaner I reached for my knitting to do whilst I finished my tea. For what felt like the longest time, I have not had the need or the urge to knit or crochet however that seems to have returned and in the last few days I have knitted a pseudo-Sophie scarf and a warm scrappy hat for work. 

The weather has vanished again, leaving a sepia-grey sky heavy with damp and cold air. It took quite a bit of an effort on my part to go out, so I rewarded myself with the snowdrops in the garden. 

The kitchen at the moment, smells rather warm and inviting - I have a marzipan and vanilla loaf cake cooking in the oven and the fragrance is filling downstairs with a mouth watering aroma.

I hope that it tastes as good as it smells😊

Postscript..... Himself declares the cake delicious and has scoffed two chunky slices, suspect it will be a 'make it again' 🍰

A chill wind blows through

We drove a little way up into the hills, parked the car and set off - with one eye on the heavy clouds on the horizon. They seemed to tumble and darken as they drifted alongside our walk.

We'd found parking which we shared with drifts of nodding snowdrops. They were protected by a small rocky bank and deep leaf litter from the steel cold cutting breeze which seemed to find every gap it could around my neck, up my sleeves and under my hat. We both pulled our coats tightly and set off across the fields, following an old pack horse track which trailed between farms.

We walked between forgotten barns and derelict buildings and tumbled down stone walls. All gently being consumed by nature. One barn made me pause so I could squint through a gap in the door. It was filled with cars from the 1970s, scavenged vehicles, cement mixers and piles of unused car tyres. All thickly coated in in generations of bird poop....

Another little stone building gently leaning over a river called me across to it. Himself bounded over with a grin and exclaimed it was a rather old (and well worn) "privy" and promptly sat down on the wooden boards .... Blokey lavatorial humour is alive and well! 

The little track turned upwards on to the hills lifting us into the chill wind. Our faces burned with the cold and my eyes watered fiercely. We leaned into the breeze and trudged our way along the now narrow muddy track through reeds and the limestone. Eventually I had to call time and we found a sheltered cove which was still in the sun but just out of the wind enough to recover. 

As the sun gently slid down the icy sky and the temperatures began to fall, we stumbled off the moors and back down on to farm land and towards the car. But before we'd finished our walk - we stopped to appreciate the sunset. 

It was good to be out, and despite that breeze being as brittlely cold as it was, felt clean and clearing and rather cathartic.

Cross eyed and derpy

Saturday was one of those gentle early spring days when the sky is a thin almost translucent blue. The kind of sky that fills your eyes with light right to your very soul. It was still crisp and the breeze cutting but with coats, hats and gloves we were warm enough as we walked into town from our little weekend hideaway. 

Walking over the dark green arched bridge we met a border collie and his lovely owner. They were off for a walk she told us and that he'd (the dog) had just come back from the dog parlour and his fur was soft and clean. I buried my hands and face into his luxuriant coat and he smelt rather good. Apparently he was prone to rolling in things rather less that sweet smelling and had to have a 'shampoo and set' at least weekly. He was ever so slightly cross eyed with a derpy pink tongue hanging out of his mouth - he was wonderful.

Bumbling around the town while we re-discovered it, we noticed that over the years how it had altered from a town which seemed to be just a cluster of odd houses and even odder shops along a main route - to one that was filled with micro-pubs, bijou restaurants and trendy gift shops. 

Even the once rough and ready bakery which served really good (but huge) home bakes had scrubbed up and was more 'rustic' in a hipster sort of way. Fortunately the baking was still delicious and super sized. Seemed churlish not to order chunky mugs of tea and something to eat, so we did...... (no lunch was needed!)

Walking back to the cottage we reminisced how we'd looked into possibly buying a house here but were concerned at how out on a limb this town felt, now a decade later,  it feels vibrant and positive and even if we did want to move - we could no longer afford it. 

It was now time to walk off those calories we'd picked up in the bakery .... more to follow ...

Ey-up

 Well, that was January done and dusted. Strangely enough, as 'January' as January was, it did not drag anything like previous years - not sure why but am very grateful. 

I also managed to write 22 posts, only one less than the whole of 2024 - that was something which gently pleased me too.  We've just returned from a weekend away where we escaped to the Dales for a couple of nights. I feel refreshed and ready to tackle February.

After work on Friday, we trundled up in my car, following roads we have used and loved for years, through towns and villages, dales and fields which we have walked through with small boys, with dogs, with just each other. 

We arrived in the dark, having detoured through the nearest little town whilst we looked for the fish and chip shop we knew was tucked away in a twisty narrow back street.

 Once we'd tracked it down, we bought a 'chip butty' (roll/barm/bap/bread bun) for me and fish and chips for Himself. A few minutes later we had arrived at our home for the weekend, opened up, put on the kettle and were eating steaming hot freshly cooked chips smothered in salt and vinegar. 

I can't think of a better way to start a weekend than by licking salty fingers and drinking tea from a 'made in Yorkshire' mug.

If Winter comes Can Spring be far behind? (Percy Bysshe Shelley)

Stepping in to the garden this morning was like stepping into an energy field. The air was crisp with the lightest of airy blue skies and I was surrounded by the sounds of blackbirds quarrelling, robins singing and the neighbour's hens making happy hen noises.

Leaves and twigs were brushed with the lightest of frost and in the sunlight they sparkled and twinkled catching my eye, filling me with joy. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly my spirit is lifted by days like these.

Whilst I was out, I fed the birds and cracked the glassy lid of ice on all their watering holes. I knew I was being watched as the trees rustled with blackbirds leaning forward to see what I'd left for them.

The cat has remained in bed - as is her want - she is a a bit of an 'old dear' and likes her creature comforts and usually I want to do the same, but not today. 

Today is too beautiful to miss.

A definite lack of rainbows

Being driven home in the dark whilst the car radio on allows my mind to wander. Himself is occupied by the drive and by nature is not a chatty person so I entertain myself with staring out the window.

The windscreen is stained by dried rain splatters and flicked up road dirt. This time of year it seems pointless trying to keep the car clean as every time I drive to and from work, my little white car has filthy streaks trailing down his sides. Yes, my car is male and he has a name - Bob.

In the distance small lights flicker as trees pass between us on the freeway and the farms sprinkled out on the hills. Sunday was a rather long day, we'd spent it with Youngest who'd put our a plea for help laying tiles on his kitchen floor and it turned out to be one of those 'takes longer than you think' jobs.

Storm Herminia was building up as Youngest's lovely girl and I were outside measuring the garden and discussing possible plans and layouts. It just got too wild and windy to linger so we retreated to the house and with mugs of tea and the internet we searched for ideas and inspiration whilst we watched the weather thrash about outside.

Monday was still reeling from the storm and although not as intense as the previous one, the walled garden suffered more damage. So after a meeting I started rescuing obelisks and wooden fence panels and dragging them into the glasshouse where they can dry off, get repaired then return to the garden. Some days at work - regardless at what life throws at me - I step up to the mark and come home satisfied. Then there are some days at work - I just want to shut the gate behind me and throw away the key.

Now, today, I am watching the finest of guti (that dreadful 'Scotch Mist / mizzle / drizzle / mist) that seeps through not just clothing but manages to dampen down through bones and flesh too. 

I know it is the dying days of January but surely we are due some nicer weather? I'd like to think so!

The pictures were snapped on Sunday evening on our drive home

A thorny issue

The garden was quiet again this morning once the storm had passed. There was a certain stillness - almost a sigh of relief - a moment's breath. The birds were flitting back and forth, making up for lost time I suspect. Today we'd planned to do the Big Garden Bird Watch ,  something we've tried to do annually for quite a while now. However, instead of sitting down in the summerhouse, notebook and mug of tea to hand, we were having to wrestle a 20 year old climbing rose who'd succumbed to Éowyn's howling winds and was now lying prone across the back of the garden in a very sorry state.

Himself and I armed with not mugs of tea or binoculars but with loppers, secateurs and the shredder got to work soon after breakfast. Metres and metres of heavily thorned and tangled rose branches were first lopped then shredded into piles of chippings. As we worked, the woodshed began to reappear from behind the unforgiving tangle.

To be brutally honest, I was not sorry the rose had to be reduced to a pile of wood chip. It had grown so big that the flowers - as beautiful and as scented as they were - were beyond our reach. We estimated it had grown over 12 metres (40 foot in old money) and was truly a monster. Now, hopefully it will recover and flower again in a year or two but at head height.

Did we still manage to see a bird or two? Well, surprisingly so - yes, many. They were so busy being birds that our shenanigans with the rose did not seem to bother them. 

Storm Éowyn

At some point during the night and through sleep deadened eyes and ears, I could hear the occasional gust of wind or rain splattering the window. Not enough to fully awaken me, but enough for me to notice.

This morning although blustery at home, it did not feel that threatening and it was surprisingly mild as we hopped into the cars and set off ..... until we hit the freeway. My car bounced and bucked and behaved as if he'd had too many oats and his feet were fizzy. By the time I'd reached work I was quite on edge as I trickled carefully along the lane into the park. It was strewn with twigs and sticks but very little else. No trees seemed to be down or branches dropped.

Then as the skies lightened from inky blue to leaden grey the wind built to a roar, ripping through trees and screaming around buildings.  The bright yellow weeding buckets we hang up on the raised beds were flung in to the air as they bounded through the garden before colliding with the wall and gate. Café chairs stopped huddling around their tables pirouetting swiftly before disgracefully nose diving with a resounding metallic thud. 

We watched from in the building for a moment or two before I ventured out down to the glasshouse. Although double strength safety glass, it is always with an amount of trepidation when I enter while the weather is as wild as today. The wind droned and groaned as the trees creaked and wailed however, in the glasshouse, radio and plant heater on, it felt warm and almost cocoon like.

However by lunch, when the wall was being stripped of pieces of brick by the wind, it was time to retreat. I sent volunteers home - it was not worth their safety (or mine) to linger longer than necessary.  With the winds behind me on the freeway my car raced home faster that I wanted however, now, sitting with the cat asleep on my shoulder, my second mug of tea nearly finished it seems that the winds may have tired themselves out - although still blustery and the trees still rocking and rolling, I think the storm may have blown itself thin.

My heart goes out to those further north and in Northern Ireland who have really felt the wrath of the storm xx

During last night's  'Winter Watch'  - the mindful moment,

 the cat decided to sit in front of the television

 to try and locate where the bird song was emanating from -

 when she had her 'Lion King' moment.

Liquid sunshine🌦️

As the rain steadily falls and the room feels gloomy, I know it is time to turn the fairy lights on and fill the kettle. I am influenced by light levels and although I don't suffer SAD as painfully as others do, I do feel it and it weighs heavily on me. I find that walking or gardening help however I have had enough of being out in the rain and have chosen to drop my plans for a yomp up and out of the valley and am turning inward.

So, once I've finished tapping away at the laptop, I shall get my SAD light, my water colours and lose myself in colour and mugs of tea. I have just glanced up and the cat is staring at me with such a frown. She is visibly accusing me of either causing the driech wet weather or my lack of ability to fix it. My dear cat, if I could, I would.

All this sounds rather depressing and it's not meant to be. It is what it is (dreadful phrase but it fits here). 

Moments later, the cat has just returned from an attempted foray into the garden. She is drenched, her coat sparkling with raindrops as she leaves foot prints across the floor. I suspect that she will now situate herself behind the wood burner and steam herself gently dry for the rest of the day.

As predicted, she did indeed vanish behind the wood burner, 

this photo is from a day or two ago

I shall just have to embrace the rain, it is January after all and use it as an excuse to give myself the day off. 

And, just for a moment's entertainment I found this ....

104 words for rain here in the UK

1. Ache and pain (Cockney rhyming slang)
2. Bange (East Anglia), a sort of dampness in the air, w/ light rain 🚿
3. Bleeter (Scottish) 💧 ⏳
4. Bluffart (Scottish) ❄️ ⏳ 😲
5. Blunk (Shropshire) 💧 ⏳
6. Cloudburst 💧⚡😲
7. Cow quaker 💧
8. Dag of rain (Scottish) 🚿 ⏳
9. Deluge 💧
10. Dibble (Shropshire) Slow rain
11. Dimpsey (West country) 🚿
12. Downpour 💧
13. Dreich (miserable weather, Scottish)
14. Drencher 💧
15. Dringey (Norflk, Suffolk, Lincolnshire)🚿
16. Drisk (Cornwall) 🚿
17. Driving rain 💨
18. Drizzle 🚿
19. Duke of Spain (Cockney rhyming slang)
20. Flist (Scottish) 🚿
21. Flurry ⏳
22. Fox’s wedding (The West Country) 😲
23. Haar (Cornish, Scotlish, N. English), drizzle from the sea 🚿
24. Harle (Lincolnshire), drizzle from the sea 🚿
25. Haster (England), a violent storm⚡
26. Haud (Scottish) 😲
27. Hemple (West Country) 🚿
28. Hig (England)⚡ ⏳
29. Hurley Burley (England) 💧⚡
30. It’s beating down 💧
31. It’s chucking it down 💧
32. It’s coming down in buckets/bucketloads 💧
33. It’s coming down in sheets 💧
34. It’s coming down it torrents 💧
35. It’s drumming down, heavy rain heard through a roof 💧
36. It’s getting biblical out there 💧⚡
37. It’s hammering (it) down 💧
38. It’s henting (Cornwall) 💧
39. It’s hossin (Cumbrian) 💧
40. It’s hoyin it doon (N. E. England) 💧
41. It’s lashing (it) down 💧
42. It’s lattin (Shropeshire), Enough rain to make outdoor work difficult
43. It’s letty (Somerset), Enough rain to make outdoor work difficult
44. It’s luttering down 💧
45. It’s maumy (N. English/Scottish) 🚿
46. It’s pattering 🚿
47. It’s peeing (it) down 💧
48. It’s pelting (it) down 💧
49. It’s pissing (it) down 💧
50. It’s plothering down (Midlands and N. England) large droplets with no wind 💧
51. It’s pouring/pouring down 💧
52. It’s raining cats and dogs 💧
53. It’s raining chair legs, painfully heavy rain 💧
54. It’s raining like a cow reliving itself 💧
55. It’s raining sideways 💨
56. It’s raining stair rods, painfully heavy rain 💧
57. It’s raining upwards, rain so heavy that it bounces 💧
58. It’s siling/syling down (N. England) 💧
59. It’s spitting 🚿
60. It’s spluttering 🚿
61. It’s sprinkling 🚿
62. It’s stottin (N. England and Scotland) heavy rain that bounces 💧
63. It’s teeming from the heavens (N. Irish) 💧
64. It’s thrashing (it) down 💧
65. It’s throwing it down 💧
66. It’s tipping (it) down 💧
67. It’s tippling (it) down 💧
68. It’s yukken it doon (Cumbrian) 💧
69. It’s trickling 🚿
70. Kelsher, a heavy shower 💧 
71. Liquid sunshine, sudden rain on a sunny day 😲
72. Misla (Irish Traveller)
73. Mizzle (N.Engis), misty drizzle 🚿
74. Mochy weather (Scotish, N. Irish) 🚿
75. Monsoon, heavy summer rain 💧 
76. Mothery (Linconshire) 🚿
77. Nice weather for ducks!
78. Onslaught 💧 
79. Peeggirin (Scottish) a stormy shower 💧 
80. Plash (Northumbrian) 😲
81. Pleasure and pain (Cockney rhyming slang)
82. Plum shower (Scottish) 💧
83. Posh (Shropshire) 💧
84. Precipitation
85. Rain
86. Raining forks’tiyunsdown’ards (Lincolnshire) like it’s raining pitchforks 💧
87. Scotch mist 🚿
88. Sea fret (N. English) mizzle from the sea 🚿
89. Shower ⏳
90. Skew (Cornwall) ⏳
91. Skite (Scottish) 🚿 ⏳
92. Sleet ❄️
93. Smirr (Scottish) 🚿
94. Smizzle (Scottish) 🚿
95. Soaker 💧
96. Soft weather (N. Irish) 🚿
97. Squall  🚿
98. Steaking 🚿
99. The heavens have opened 😲
100. The smoky smirr o rain (Scotland) 🚿
101. The Wet
102. Thunderstorm ⚡
103. Torrent/Torrential 💧
104. Yillen (Scottish) 🚿 💨

Thanks to Starkeycomics.com for the list

Gentle Sunday nothings

A small downy white feather was lightly drifting on our pond. The slightest of breeze gently twisting it around - a little swan in it's own little lake. 

Although still, meteorologically speaking, late winter today felt a bit like spring. When the weather is quiet, with a muted air about her, Spring has a certain stillness that feels clear and fresh.   

With a sense of anticipation. 

Snowdrop and daffodil leaves have pushed through the decaying leaves left by autumn promising much - just not yet.....I will have to wait a little longer.

The birds have been singing their little hearts out - Robins, Coal, Great and Blue Tits, Blackbirds, House Sparrows and both the Gold and Bullfinches. They are also celebrating that the seasons are turning and each day further from the solstice is a day nearer spring.

In the greenhouse I'd left an untidy mess from an end of year pruning of the vine which - to my shame - I never cleared up. However just by a lucky turn of events, I am now to teach a Spring Wreath workshop and the once discarded vines are now twisty hedgerow wreaths ready to fully dry and then be decorated with hand made nests with faux eggs, moss, feathers and ivy.

You can do it

During Wednesday's sublime light, this little flowering moss glowed in the sun

After the snow, there was rain, followed swiftly by driech grey mist which seemed to not only hang around the house and garden but around me too.  

Then yesterday the skies cleared and the sun filled the day. 

At work, the volunteers and I revelled in the warmth and light - it felt uplifting. We tackled something I'd planned months ago as an early autumn project which was then thwarted by the weather.

Finally on Wednesday, with a huge pile of chestnut palings, saws, mallets and steaming mugs of tea we started and the joy was palpable.

I quietly listened to happy chatter and bird song. Volunteers and birds all soaking in the light and gentle winter sun. However what made me smile the most was the obvious pride these ladies felt by the end of their session. They'd completed a rather manual and physical task and it looked bloody fantastic !

karma

It is early morning, the snow has all but gone, replaced by a gentle dull drizzle and drifting grey coloured mist. The brightness and clarity of the last few days has dissolved into the more usual leaden hues of a northern winter.  Everything is coated in a fine mizzle with jewel like droplets at the end of each branch. And it feels cold.

There is a whirling flash of wings flying back and forth past the bedroom window. 

The starlings are back. 

Our neighbour's bathroom roof has a conveniently starling size gap beneath the slate tiles and the millstone grit stones. It used to be inhabited by a garrulous family of house sparrows until the starlings in a rather nasty take over bid killed all the fledgelings and hounded the adults. It took nearly nine years before the sparrows returned to our garden.....

I digress. The present incumbents - the starlings, have raised between two and three broods every year for over a decade now and seeing that in the wild, starlings live between three and five years, it does mean several generations have passed beneath those slate slabs.

After the flurry of raising fledglings until the last minutes of summer, the starlings suddenly vanish, turning from parents to small dots within those magical murmurations. Then, as autumn begins to soften then decay, they return. They (are 'they' the same birds from summer? without ring ID - who knows?) return and begin prospecting, researching nest sites for the coming spring. 

Winter comes and goes, or lingers depending on her mood however the starlings have a fixed schedule and for the last three or four days the birds have been flitting in and out, squeezing below the snow melt to investigate their potential nesting spot for 2025.

The roof space above the neighbour's bathroom must be filled to the rafters with decades of nesting material. The previous owner, an older lady who although she owned the house for around ten years only really lived in it for about four as she suffered ill health. She was quite happy that the birds lived in her roof saying she was more their landlord that the owner resident herself. There are now new owners, a young couple who have been rebuilding the entire house for the last 18 (very long and dusty and noisy) months who I made aware of 'our' starlings in their roof and until today I thought the birds would be safe for another season. 

Today I heard work starting in the bathroom. I might gently remind them about the birds in the roof or suggest to the starlings that their residency, like the house sparrows they evicted, has now too come to an end.

           

Old news New news

 It was Himself who discovered this bundle. His head and hands buried beneath the floorboards as he scouted for any further unwanted issues. He tossed it towards me and returned to his 'below board' position. 

Carefully peeling it open I discovered the date - 30 December 1976 - this paper had been hiding beneath the floorboards for 49 years.

A gentle turning of pages revealed the frontispiece with the cost of the newspaper only being 7p, however the stories felt very familiar. Taxes going up, prices rocketing, unemployment etc etc. However the biggest difference was an advertisement for smoking. A full spreadsheet sized one.

For a princely sum of 45 pence you could get your grubby little fingers on a packet of 12 KING SIZE cigarettes. I looked up the company and in 1976, this company was at it's height with it eventually being hobbled first by taxes, then health sensibilities, finally being absorbed by an American company and fading away. 

Another full page advert was for a car - I looked up it's number plate on the MoT checker and it reported that yes this was indeed the car in the photo but it also informed me that it had a red livery.

There was a 'pocket cartoon' - which has a woman asking a bloke whether ' kissing was a health hazard' as well as a simple weather report stating that it was a cloudy and rainy December - yup - some things never change........

To purchase the current version of this paper is £1.70.

The Fiat was sold for £1500 at the time, I have looked up car and classic car type websites and the same model can command a price between double and 12 (yes TWELVE) times the original cost. wow.

Not quite as planned

Today has been an odd day, one that any plans, simple or otherwise have taken a journey of their own and despite all good intentions - 'things' have happened.

An entire can of carpet glue exploding upstairs and spiralling furiously as it sprayed the stickiest 'web' everywhere until it expired

A water pipe being pierced by a nail by a previous unknown workman and on removing the nail some decades later - a present workman created an unwelcome water leak. He was horrified and very apologetic even though it was not him.

Decades old pipes, wires and a 1976 newspaper lying amidst so much filth and dust between the floorboards that it felt like an archaeological dig rather than a repair job

A lemon drizzle cake - usually the mildest and meekest of bakes - fought back and caused so many deviations that subsequently a lot more washing up was created.

All this before lunch............

And now, sitting on the floor, listening to the ice melt dripping, the neighbour drilling and the radio churning out over-cheerful yabba, I am mending Himself's hat. 

And it suddenly feels a whole lot better.