On This Bright Spring Morning

On this bright spring morning I peg out the washing, the sun warm on my back though there's frost in the fields. I listen to the song of small birds, the contented chicken murmurs, the cry of lambs and the sound of distant church bells. I notice the fattening buds on the trees, the hazel catkins and the daffodils raising their faces to the sun. One of the cats rubs against my legs.

All's right with the world on this bright spring morning.

Today

Chopping wood in the sunshine while the kittens play tag.

Watching the chickens through the kitchen window while I wash the dishes, elbow deep in suds.

The smell of woodsmoke from the range, sweetened by the hyacinths on the windowsill.

Upstairs, the older cats sprawl in patches of sunlight on the bedspread.

Snowdrops and crocuses brighten the world. There is birdsong.

Water drips from the roof. It will rain again soon.

Time for another cup of Earl Grey. Then lunch. Then off to work.

Today is unique, yet full of the familiar. Today is a day like and unlike every other day. Today is the one and only today. Just like yesterday, and tomorrow, and all the days to come...
 

Kitten Chaos

The two new kittens, Mandrake and Woodruff, are outside. Galloping madly in the autumn sunshine, tumbling through the woodpile, tearing through the long grass. Occasionally they barrel headlong into the huddle of foraging chickens and there is an uproar of ruffled feathers, outraged clucking and scattered hens. For a few seconds the kittens - who have learned the hard way that chickens can peck - are in subdued, deferent retreat.

Then the smells... and the sunshine... and the birds... and the blowing leaves!!! And they're off again, running, tumbling, play-fighting, and exuberantly exploring the wonderful wide world beyond the safety and comfort of the back door.

The warm kitchen is reassuringly only a cat-flap away.

Chickens As Pets

...And in other, unrelated news, I have just discovered that my photo of Morag and Daisy on the garden wall has won me a signed copy of the bestselling book 'Chickens As Pets'. Woot!

The Garden Beckons...

Gosh, how can it be March 2013 already? I've barely got used to it being 2012!

After weeks of cold, frosty weather it is suddenly spring here at Halfway Up A Hill. It is mild and sunny this morning. I have let the chickens out of their run onto the grass and they are wandering contentedly, scratching up the lawn and dust-bathing in the sawdust in their favourite spot under the saw-horse.

I am seized with the urge to get out and start planting. The garden needs a major overhaul and I had planned a fairly minimal vegetable plot this year while I finish re-configuring it and building new raised beds. But on days like this I just want to get my hands in the earth, and I can feel the urge to plant just a few more herbs, add a few more veggies to the plan, squeeze in some extra seeds here and there... I probably need to reign these ideas in, as it will be all too easy to raise way too many seedlings in my enthusiasm and then have no room for them when it comes to planting out.

But oh, on days like this, the call of the garden is so strong. I'm going out now, and I may be gone for some time...

Chilly Chickens

Snow Day

Soft white flakes fall from the sky overnight. By morning, the hills are blanketed by snow. Gearing up to battle my way into work, I am relieved when my employer rings to tell me to stay at home. The roads are too bad, snow still falls thickly and even if I manage to get there, it is likely I'd be unable to get home safely.

Donning many layers of clothing, shuffling like an old woman to avoid slipping on the icy path, I feed and water the chickens and Spike the gander. The chickens are reluctant to leave the shelter of their house, and Spike shouts in outrage at the sight of all that snow, for which he seems certain I am in some way to blame. The friendly robin by the back door, bold and cheeky, reminds me to add extra food to the bird table. Though my fingers are painfully cold, I make two trips out to the woodpile for extra firewood. Then I can light the woodburning stove and thaw myself out.

The world has a strangely muffled quality today, I feel a sense of peaceful isolation. Few cars crawl up or down the hill. The snow continues to fall; sometimes thick flurries, sometimes small, scattered flakes. My footprints from the morning chores soon fill and are smoothed away.

*****

Tonight the cats and I snuggle around the stove, grateful for its comforting, glowing warmth. I have plenty of food and firewood. I have my new computer to play with. I have nowhere I need to go, nothing I need to do. It could be a lot worse.

Gunny

IB's beloved cat, Gunny, died yesterday. He had been ill for a few weeks with some kind of lung problem,, gradually fading in front of our eyes. He was only 9 years old.

Later that evening the screen saver on my computer, displaying random photos from my files, brought back so many memories. Not just Gunny, but so many other loved and much missed animals. Cats - Teasel, Tigger and Herbert. Chickens, from our first three (Josephine, Daphne and Sugar) all the way through Blanche, Blodwen and Bronwen to our rescued battery hens (Ginger, Babs, Mac and Norma-Jean) and more recent arrivals like Blodeuwedd I who was snatched away by a fox. Ted and Dougal, the guinea pigs. Our original geese, Buffy and Angel are now gone, along with their goslings, Snowy (killed by a predator) and Sunny (re-homed after fighting with his father). Further back, there are older, pre-digital era photos - Algie, Koshka, Julie, Mina, Thomas (cats), Max the budgie, Frances the duck, Nicky the dog.

Anyone who has had a companion animal can tell you that they are all individuals, each one a unique character. Oh, how they worm their way into your heart - and the pain when they are gone.

Today, in beautiful sunshine, we buried Gunny in an area we have earmarked for a forest garden. He was wrapped in one of IB's T-shirts, and we placed flowers and a favourite toy with him in the ground. We planted an apple tree on his grave. In years to come I imagine us sitting under the tree on such a sunny day, sharing our memories of Gunny. In the meantime, we will continue to create new memories with  Bear, Marley and Dandilo, the cats. And enjoy the antics of Bella, Dot, Daisy, Blossom, Ceridwen, Blodeuwedd II, Misty and Morag, our current flock of hens, and Spike, the gander. Our animals bring such colour to our days. Sharing our lives with them is a privilege, and the pain of their loss is a small price to pay for the joy they bring.

RIP Gunny August 2002 - June 2012

A Small Treat

It is a beautiful spring morning. The wind is cold but when it drops, the sun is warm on my back.

Gingerly, I move over to the chicken run to let the girls out of their house and give them food and water. I have recently undergone surgery and have been too sore to attend to these chores of late. Mum, Dad and IB have been helping me, but this morning I am feeling better. In the sunshine, with daffodils blowing in the breeze, the sound of water rushing in the stream and lambs bleating in the fields, a routine chore now almost seems like a treat.

The chickens crowd round my feet as I deposit their feeder, empty the drinker and refill with fresh water. Outside the cats play-chase each other and then roll lazily on their backs, luxuriating in the sun. I shut the door of the chicken run behind me and slowly return to the house, pausing on the way to admire the pulmonaria in full bloom. The sun shines, the birds sing, spring is here - and I am very happy to have the time to stop and breathe it all in.

August Pleasures

It has been a quiet, uneventful weekend - heavenly, after a hectic week. Work has been extra busy and at home the house has been in turmoil while a chimney has been lined in preparation for the installation of the new wood burning stove. Earlier in the week my lovely brother and nephew were visiting so there has been much socialising too.

Yesterday I harvested mange-touts and courgettes from the veggie patch, and a basketful of peaches from the dwarf tree in the polytunnel. This morning I had lovely lie-in, and after tending to the chickens (in their luxurious new run!), geese and cats, grazed on juicy blackberries from the hedge. The elderberries are also ripening, so it will soon be time to make a few gallons of wine. And the damson tree is literally weighed down by its enormous crop which is gradually turning from green to purple - more wine, and lots of jam! I love all this harvesting, it's so satisfying.

Meanwhile the kitchen is scented by the bunches of herbs that are hanging up to dry - rosemary, watermint, meadowsweet and St John's wort. Bear snuggles, purring on my lap as I type. What a lovely day! I hope yours is just as lovely.

Spring Chickens

Morag, eavesdropping

It was a glorious, early spring day at Halfway Up A Hill. Crocus opened wide faces to the sun, so warm after the long, cold winter. A brave, early honey bee bustled amongst the thick clumps of snowdrops. Nesting birds sang songs of spring.

While the humans worked in the greenhouse, the chickens wandered nearby.

Dot, Daisy and Blodeuwedd gossiped companionably as they sauntered, nibbling at the grass.

Misty spread her wings, sighed, and settled down to a blissful sunbathing session.

Perched on the disused cold frame, Morag eavesdropped on Bella and Blodwen as the two elderly hens reminisced, chuckling together about how Bella had played a trick on the humans last year by hiding in this very spot.

Bella and Blodwen, reminiscing

In a pool of sunshine, Ceridwen and Blossom practiced the Charleston together, finding to their delight that their dance steps had the side benefit of turning up juicy insects and other gourmet treats hidden in the grass.

Ceridwen, dancing

What better way to celebrate the welcome arrival of Spring?

Blossom, scoffing

The Mysterious Case of the Vanishing Hen

As this afternoon was another gloriously sunny affair, IB and I decided to work in the vegetable patch. And while we worked, we opened the door to the chicken run, so they could come out and graze on the lush grass by the greenhouse. We assumed that as we were working close by they would be safe from foxes and buzzards.

One of the younger Light Sussex hens (Blossom) was showing signs of broodiness, so we evicted her from the nest box (much to her disgust) and shut the pop-hole so she couldn't sneak back in when we weren't looking. The delights of scratching up interesting tit-bits in the grass soon distracted her, and soon everyone was out enjoying the fresh air and warm sunshine - including us in the veggie patch.

After a few hours, we decided it was time to retire for a cup of tea, and ushered most of the chickens back into the run. I brought down some wheat to coax in the stragglers while IB took the gardening tools back up the hill and put the kettle on.

As soon as I opened the pop-hole, Blossom shot back into the nest box, her hormones clearly overwhelming her appetite! The other hens had no such qualms and clustered around my feet, murmuring contentedly and eagerly pecking up the grain. I did a quick head count, and could make out only eight hens around me. Blossom was in the nest box, but that should have left nine. I counted again. Still only eight. Who was missing? The two Black Rocks, Ceridwen and Blodeuwedd, and Rhiannon the Speckledy, present. Three of the Light Sussex: Daisy, Dot and old Blodwen, too. The two new smokey-grey Bluebells so new they are not yet named, and Blossom (the fourth Light Sussex) looking puffed up and sulky in the nest box, all there. Except for one. Bella, the Cream Legbar.

Bella is one of my oldest hens, yet she still lays 2-3 eggs a week. They are the most beautiful pale blue colour, and very popular with my regular egg customers, some of whom claim they taste better than normal eggs (I'm not convinced of this myself, but still...). Bella's also very flighty, panicking at the drop of a hat and seemingly convinced I am actually an evil fiend who will do her in the very second she lets her guard down.

I double checked the run, under the leaning elder, under the chicken house (where they often enjoy a dust bath). I called, and shook the container of grain, which is usually guaranteed to bring all the hens running eagerly to me. No sign of Bella. I began to worry. IB joined me, and we searched in the trees overhead (in case she'd had a Bella-style freak out about something and flown up to an overhanging branch), and the undergrowth - at first close to the area the hens had been in, and then further and further afield. Still nothing.

I racked my brains to try and remember if I'd heard something strange while we'd been in the veggie patch, but couldn't remember anything unusual. We searched and called and began to suspect the worst, except the other hens didn't seem spooked, and there were no tell-tale heaps of feathers to be found.

Meeting back at the greenhouse, we were baffled. Our best guess was that she'd wandered away from the rest of the flock and been snagged by a lucky passing fox. But the lack of feathery evidence seemed strange.

"Perhaps she's lurking in the undergrowth somewhere, and she'll come out later," I suggested, thinking aloud. "We'd better check back frequently in case she turns up. Or perhaps she's crept off to find somewhere to lay as the hen house was shut. Perhaps she's round the back of the greenhouse..."

IB climbed onto the wall of a disused cold-frame to peer behind the greenhouse - and as he did so, Bella shot out of the cold-frame in a flurry of feathery panic! Closer inspection revealed that she'd fashioned herself a cosy hollow in there, where a perfect new-laid pale-blue egg now nestled. Her mottled brown plumage was perfect camouflage, and we'd walked right past her during our search without seeing her at all.

Bella is now safely back with the rest of the flock, and I think everyone's heart rate is just about back to normal again now!

I'm Back!

It has been the longest, hardest winter.

I struggled with a job I hated during the long, dark days, sinking deeper into depression than I realised. My divorce came through and T married his new partner almost immediately, which felt like a final, bitter slap in the face.

As winter dug in for the long haul, the bitterly cold and snowy weather took its toll on everyone at Halfway Up A Hill, including the animals. No fewer than 3 of the chickens died from infections or simple old age, and one was taken by a fox which dug under the fence surrounding the run (luckily we heard the commotion and ran down in time to prevent further casualties). One of the younger chickens also suffered recurrent sour crop, and ended up living on a windowsill in the house for several weeks while we laboriously treated her with antibiotics and hand fed her until she recovered. Meantime, we suffered the frustration and inconvenience of being snowed in for a couple of weeks which seemed to drag on and on.

Later, in February, I succumbed to the nastiest chest infection I've ever experienced; it took me nearly 6 weeks to recover and the antibiotics I was prescribed had no effect whatsoever. IB also caught it and together we nursed each other as best we could, with heroic support from my poor Dad, who was also nursing Mum through it.

The final tragedy in this catalogue of drear and misfortune came when Angel the gander stopped eating and preening, seemingly unable to open his beak more than a couple of millimetres. We took him to the vet, only to find that somehow, he had both broken and dislocated his jaw. It's almost impossible to imagine how this could have happened, our best guess is that in chasing one of the chickens he ran into a fence post or similar obstacle and injured himself that way. Sadly, the damage was inoperable, and with many tears we made the horrible decision to have him put down. Buffy is gradually adjusting to her widowhood, and at some stage we will try to find her another companion.

This longest, hardest winter seemed truly reluctant to loosen its grip, and the unusually cold and dry weather remained for a prolonged period, the normally lush green hillsides strangely brown and deadened by drought and frost.

At times I didn't know how I would get through it. But spring must follow winter eventually, no matter how strongly winter clings on.

And now at last, spring has come. The spring rains turned the fields back to green, and as the sun shines and the birds sing, the leaf buds are breaking and flowers are blooming in hedgerow and garden. I have left my soul-destroying job and am investigating the possibility of starting a small business of my own. IB and I have been cleaning and decorating the house, coaxing the neglected vegetable patch back into productivity, and dreaming and planning for the future.

And today I realised I am happy, truly happy: back to the normal 'me' that I have been struggling to regain for the last 2-3 years, since - well, the exhaustion brought on by the Summer Gathering in August 2007, really. Can it be that long? Looking back I can't believe what a struggle life has been since then. Yet suddenly I feel like I am swimming with the tide instead of constantly battling against it. Somehow I am in alignment with the Universe again.

Perhaps one day I will be able to look back and see the pattern of why I had to spend so long struggling just to keep my head above the maelstrom of hardship being flung my way. One day. For now I am happy to know I am in calmer waters, going with the flow and enjoying the journey once more.

RIP Blanche

R.I.P. Blanche, Head Chicken and Bossy Boots. 2003-2010

The Ice Age

Like most of the UK, we are currently enduring the most extreme snowy weather for decades.

It began on 21st December, when we awoke to find that heavy snow had fallen during the night. Temperatures had been below freezing for about a week beforehand, so the snow was slow in melting. The driveway here is steep, and leads out to a steep downhill slope, which made it impossible to use the car for a couple of days. However, by the afternoon of 23rd December, enough tarmac was visible for me to try driving into the village. The journey was a little hair raising on the way down, but the journey back was much worse. Although I was only gone for just over an hour, thick snow had begun to fall by the time I returned, and the car wheels spun uselessly as I attempted to get back to Halfway Up A Hill. Cursing my luck and coaxing the car, somehow I made it to the drive entrance, where I was only able to manoeuvre the car in through the gates and safely home with the help of my neighbour and IB, who was waiting anxiously at home for me.

Over the next couple of days, the snow fell, melted a little, re-froze into thick black ice, more snow fell, and repeated the cycle. By Christmas morning, the road to the house was completely impassable by car, and we feared we'd miss the family Christmas happening just a few miles away at my parents' new home. It was eventually arranged that if we could hike out on foot to the main road, Dad would come and pick us up. After making provisions for the animals, we quickly packed some goodies for an overnight stay, and stuffed them and the Christmas presents into two rucksacks. Dressed warmly in our Christmas finery with thick woolly jumpers, coats, scarves and boots, we slid gingerly down the hill where we were very relieved to find Dad waiting for us in a warm car.

Christmas was lovely, we had a wonderful time with Mum, Dad, and my brother, sister-in-law and nephew eating, drinking, laughing and of course watching the first instalment of the much anticipated Dr Who special! The next day, Dad drove us home. Overnight it had rained, and although there was still a lot of ice around, within a couple of days we were able to get the car out and stock up on much needed supplies for ourselves and the critters. We were also lucky enough to get a delivery of heating oil because on New Year's Day, the snow began falling again.
The day had been sunny and clear - although bitterly cold - and we were planning to drive over to Mum and Dad's again just after lunch to see my brother, sister and brother-in-law who were all visiting for New Year. Unfortunately - or perhaps fortunately - one of the chickens (Blanche, who is now quite advanced in chicken years) was looking unwell*, and with the weather being so bitter we decided to leave our departure until after sundown to ensure she was safely tucked up in the hen house for the night. This proved to be our salvation, as just before the sun set the snow began falling heavily. We waited to see if it would ease off, but it continued to fall and in the end we decided not to risk getting stranded.

It was a wise decision. Heavy snow once again blanketed the area, and the car was again stranded on the driveway. I hoped that at some stage we would be able to escape our icy prison and see my siblings, but it proved impossible - and this time Mum and Dad's house was as cut off as ours.

On Monday 4th January, I was due back at work (I currently have 2 part time jobs) and I managed to hike down the hill to catch a bus, this time with the aid of a torch as it was before dawn - yikes! However, it was soon clear that the weather was a severe handicap to business as usual, and I was sent home early from both jobs. Since then, we have had about 6-8" more snow (it snowed all day yesterday) and my place of work has been closed due to the weather.

It is nice not to have to go to work, and the snow looks so pretty. But I am more than tired now of our enforced isolation. The snow is now so deep - with thick, treacherous ice concealed beneath - that even going for a walk is out of the question. Just feeding the chickens is becoming an extreme sport! It is true to say that the novelty of this weather has well and truly worn off for me! And as yet there is no thaw in sight. Luckily we have plenty of provisions and the house is warm. In the meantime, I'm praying for a rise in temperature outside.

* For those worried about Blanche, rest assured that she is currently nestled cosily in a cardboard box next to a radiator in the house and is showing signs of improvement.

Raining Cats and Dogs - And Chickens...

The stormy winds blew all night, throwing down sheets of rain. By morning they had subsided into intermittent gusts and showers, but when the chickens came out of their house a strange sight met their eyes. In the adjoining run were some new chickens - three more Light Sussex and a pair of Black Rocks, the sun highlighting the iridescent green sheen on their feathers.

"I don't like it, I don't like it at all!" complained Bella the Cream Legbar, who was by nature highly strung.

"I've heard the humans speak of it raining cats and dogs, but never chickens..." muttered Mac, an ex-battery hen and the thinker of the group.

Could it have rained chickens? It was a very rainy night.

The little flock looked expectantly at Blanche, the head chicken (and a Light Sussex to boot). She would know what had happened.

Blanche looked at their waiting faces, and puffed out her chest importantly. "If it can rain cats and dogs," she opined solemnly, "Then as chickens are the superior species it stands to reason that an unusually heavy downpour would produce chickens."

The others nodded in agreement. The logic was watertight, even Mac couldn't deny it. It would go down in poultry history. The night it rained chickens.

Today, Halfway Up A Hill...

Today, Halfway Up A Hill, the sun was shining, and the sweet, heady scent of elderflowers drifted on the breeze.

Bees bumbled happily in the comfrey patch, swallows swooped and dived in a blue sky and a cheeky blackbird feasted on newly-ripe redcurrants.

The cats - Bear, Marley and Herbert (who had stopped by for a visit) sunned themselves on the warm paving.

The chickens wandered happily through lush summer grass, scratching for delicacies and murmuring gossip to each other. The geese cooled their feet in the pond before dozing in the shade of the elder tree.

And Moonroot worked in the garden, enjoying the sensation of warm, damp earth on her hands and the sun on her back. Later she picked the first strawberries of the season and planned an afternoon of elderflower cordial making...

Life is sweet.

Quick March!

Photo: Flamenco dancers, Dali Restaurant, Vera Beach Club

Just like the flamenco dancer in this photo, March went past in a blur. Looking back I can't believe I crammed so much in!


The first week was busy, full of optician's appointments, getting the central heating boiler serviced and running errands for friends and neighbours. At the weekend I drove down to my brother Mike's place in Somerset, and then the two of us travelled down to Crawley together to visit old friends who were celebrating the official opening of the new fire pit in their garden!

I have known Viv since we were at school together, but we haven't seen much of each other lately so it was great to catch up with her and her lovely husband John. The fire pit - built by John - was a great success, enabling us to sit out late into the evening chatting, drinking wine, singing songs and toasting marshmallows even though it was still only the beginning of March. We were joined by a group of other friends including my sister Cathy and her husband Julian (who came from Kent - a much shorter journey than from Somerset and Wales!).


Photo: Mike & Viv at breakfast on Sunday morning

Mike and I stayed over and enjoyed the garden again the next morning, sitting out on Viv & John's sun-trap patio for a leisurely breakfast before heading back home.

The next week was marred by having to have Tigger put down unexpectedly on Monday.

More bad news followed when it turned out the venue I was hoping to use for the Dream Workshop I was organising with Anne Hill the following weekend had become unavailable. At such short notice I decided the only option was to hold it at my house instead - which then meant a frantic round of cleaning and tidying and moving furniture to make the place fit for visitors!

The day before the Workshop (14th March), I attended the planning meeting for the Spring Equinox ritual of the Carmarthen Moot. I had expected to be unable to attend the ritual itself as I would be away the following weekend, but it transpired that many members would also be busy that weekend, so it was postponed until Sunday 29th March.

Despite the late change of venue, the Dream Workshop with Anne was well attended and greatly enjoyed by everyone. Anne was wonderful and we all learned a great deal, both about working with dreams, and also about ourselves through insights gained by examining our dreams. There is now great enthusiasm for creating a local dream group! If you get a chance to attend one of Anne's workshops, I thoroughly recommend them - and also her new book, 'What To Do When Dreams Go Bad', a signed copy of which Anne was kind enough to gift me with.

It was a great weekend, but now I was feeling time pressured - I had a busy week ahead and I also had to prepare for travelling to Spain with my friend Suzanne on 21st March, plus the Pagan Federation Regional Conference in Cardiff was looming straight afterwards. I had booked a stall there and was hoping for the opportunity to sell lots of my crafts - and there were a million things to organise before then!

The week leading up to the holiday in Spain was so busy I didn't have time to pack until the Friday, when I was planning to drive up to Suzanne's place in Croydon as we had to catch an early flight out of Gatwick on Saturday morning. Unfortunately there was a power cut overnight meaning my alarm clock didn't go off on Friday morning and I overslept by a disastrous two hours! This made me late leaving and of course I then ran into horrendous traffic by the time I hit the M25. So I arrived pretty frazzled and much later than planned at Suzanne's! She and another friend, Annie (who lives near Suzanne) were waiting patiently for me and we spent a nice evening chatting and munching pizza before a relatively early night as we had to be up by 5am the next morning to get to the airport!

I feel a bit guilty that I have been to Spain twice in the last couple of months, especially as I think I should really be battening down the hatches and being frugal until the divorce is settled! But this trip was planned way back at the end of last summer (the Barcelona trip was a last minute affair, spurred by the feeling that I should see the Rubinoos when the chance offered itself!), and everyone has been assuring me that a break at this stage in the divorce is a Good Idea. Who am I to argue?

Suzanne and I travelled to Almeria and spent a wonderfully restful week at the very lovely Vera Beach Club resort. It was the perfect holiday for the two of us, both feeling stressed out by our respective current circumstances (Suzanne: job, me: divorce) - the resort was quiet, peaceful, beautiful and the local people were kind and friendly. I would thoroughly recommend the area to anyone wanting a relaxing break.






I have plenty more photos to inflict on you - particularly from the day we visited the Alhambra Palace - but I will post those separately!


The week left us beautifully relaxed, but unfortunately the travelling home undid a lot of the good work! We had to be up at just after 6am to get to Almeria airport in time to check in for our flight, then caught a connecting flight in Barcelona which landed at Heathrow. The next leg of the journey was catching a bus back to Suzanne's house so I could pick up my car. The bus was particularly slow due to all the Saturday afternoon traffic, and we didn't get back to Croydon until about 5.30pm. And then I had to drive back to Wales! Luckily there wasn't too much traffic but I was exhausted by the time I got home (at about 10.30pm) and felt in need of a holiday...


Cathy and Julian had been house-sitting for me and doing some decorating while I was gone so the good news was the house looking brilliant! The bad news was that the clocks went forward that night so I lost a much needed hour of sleep.


Cathy and Julian left the next day (I wished they could have stayed longer, but they needed to get home). Once they'd gone I gathered together stuff for the Carmarthen Moot Spring Equinox ritual and headed off in the car to start picking people up. Normally we hold rituals in the centre of Carmarthen, which is easy for people to get to. But our usual venue is now unavailable, so one of the members had kindly offered the use of his garden, which was lovely, but unfortunately not easy to get to by public transport. Somehow I managed to pack myself, four passengers and a whole load of ritual gear into my tiny car and we set off! The ritual went really well - although it was a little chilly - and a good time was had by all. Not having the time constraints imposed by our previous venue meant that we carried on chatting and eating much longer than normal. By the time we finally left and I had dropped everyone at their various destinations I didn't get home until 9.30pm!


It was quite dark by then, and the chickens and geese needed shutting away. Julian had mentioned that a mystery animal had been digging in the compost heap, pulling compost all over the path while I'd been away, so I was quite anxious to check the chickens were OK when I got back. They are in a supposedly predator-proof run with high wire fences and netting over the top of the run, as we have suffered chicken casualties in the past due to both foxes and buzzards. Going down to the run with a torch, I opened the door to do a quick head count and was relieved to see everyone present and correct. But when I turned to leave the run, the beam of the torch lit up a chicken-sized hole in the fence! I suddenly realised that my wily hens had been letting themselves out into the non-predator-safe vegetable patch every day while I'd been away, and they themselves were in fact the mystery compost-diggers! Luckily all had survived the experience and I patched up the hole before letting them out again the next morning - much to their disappointment.


The postscript to my March adventures was the Pagan Fed Conference on 4th April. The week leading up to it was a frantic rush to get everything ready to sell on the stall. I had another 5am start (groan) to get down to Barry Island early enough to set up before the doors opened at 9am (and after packing up at 6.30pm and dropping various people off en route I finally got back home at about 10pm!). It was a very good day of talks and ritual, I saw many friends there and... I sold almost nothing. I didn't, in fact, even cover my costs. Oh well, can't win them all. On the plus side, I now have lots and lots of stuff to put on Etsy - so don't forget to check out my store for lots of new goodies which will be appearing over the next few weeks!


So in summing up all the events and excitement of March I would say that I feel like I need another holiday now!!

Black Ice, Hot Mash

My decision to brave the elements in search of groceries on Sunday proved to be the right one. The rain that was beginning to fall as I returned continued overnight, and by Monday morning the rain falling onto hard-frozen ground had created treacherous black ice everywhere. The state of the drive looked like I'd have a hard job getting the car out, and when I walked up to check out the road it was clearly too dangerous to even attempt (it's a steep hill currently resembling nothing so much as an ice-chute!). I was supposed to be doing local voluntary work, but had to ring in and explain I was stranded for the time being.

A couple of hours later, I heard a straining car engine and voices. Looking out I could see a car slowly trying to climb the hill, but slewing all over the place. The two passengers had got out and were shouting advice to the driver - who I imagine was swearing colourfully as the wheels spun and the car slid unpredictably on the thick ice. The car pretty much came to a halt at the top of our drive and the occupants got out to survey the scene gloomily. They clearly weren't going anywhere - and having got this far it was going to be virtually impossible to turn around and descend again safely.

I went out and invited them in for a cup of tea, which they accepted gratefully. They turned out to be a family from Devon who had come to Wales to pick up a German Shepherd puppy from a breeder who lives further up the road from Halfway Up A Hill. Unfortunately their timing couldn't have been worse as far as the weather was concerned. And now they were stranded.

They stayed for about an hour, warming themselves and drinking tea. Eventually they phoned the breeder who said she would drive as far down the hill as she safely could, and they began walking up to meet her.

They were gone for a good couple of hours, and I began to worry, but at last they returned from their mission (I was quite disappointed not to see the pup, but it transpired the trip was just to choose it - they will pick it up in a few weeks when it is old enough to leave its mother). Luckily by then the sun had melted enough ice that they were able to turn the car around and gingerly descend the hill.

As for me, I'm going to stay put for now. Although the black ice has melted where the sun's rays reached, the hill is still pretty treacherous. And it was down to -8ºC last night!

So the chickens are more grateful than ever for their hot mash in the morning. Cynthia left a comment on my last post asking for the 'recipe'. This is what I give them, as recommended by my neighbour Olwen. I take a large, shallow bowl and cover the bottom with layer's pellets (the girls have access to a hopper filled with layer's pellets all day). Then I pour on boiling water and mix it until it is the consistency of sloppy mashed potatoes. Finally I stir in a couple of handfuls of mixed grain (currently wheat and oats, sometimes I have some maize in there too), which I know they love. The dish keeps my hands warm on the way down to the chicken run and the chooks absolutely love it. This morning all of them completely ignored the hopper of dry pellets and went straight for their hot breakfast instead (this delighted the four robins and couple of dunnocks who also await the morning food eagerly, as they had unfettered access to the layers pellets).

Some people also give their chickens porridge (oatmeal and hot water), although I have never tried mine on it, or another hot food chickens like is boiled up potato peelings. My understanding is that if you are in the UK the law dictates that none of this is supposed to be prepared in the kitchen, nor should your animals be fed 'kitchen waste'. So I guess you're supposed to peel the potatoes in the garden and then throw the spuds away! Hmmm...

Frozen

The ground is frozen solid. The temperature here hasn't been above freezing for about a week; overnight it has regularly been down to -6ºC. Frost is caked onto most surfaces, and the garden birds search singlemindedly for food. The days have mostly been sunny, which has thawed things a little where the sun's rays reach. But in shaded or north-facing areas, the frost and ice is a permanent fixture. Overnight, the cats take it in turns to crawl under the covers with me and warm their paws. Each morning I have been feeding the chickens with a hot mash to warm them up, which they clearly love. The geese, hardy birds, are unphased, even seem to enjoy crashing through the ice on the pond each morning.

Today it is overcast and nothing looks like thawing. It is even snowing a little, tiny specks of snow whirling down out of the silvery sky to powder the grass.

I have a dilemma. I really need to go food shopping. The problem is, I now have my new car (as of yesterday), and I'm feeling anxious about driving an unfamiliar car in such nasty, icy conditions.

This irritates me, because I know I used to be braver. I am realising that one of the side-effects of a long-term relationship is the way you become reliant on a second opinion. If T was here, I'd say, 'I need to go shopping but I'm a bit nervous about driving the new car on icy roads', and he'd either say, 'Oh it'll be fine, it's not that bad and they'll have gritted the main roads', or, 'No, I'd leave it another day or so, we can make do with things from the freezer until the weather improves'. And then my decision would be made for me, one way or the other. I would either feel brave enough to go, because really, it's not that bad, or I'd feel justified in chickening out because it's not very nice out there and there is stuff in the freezer.

Being part of a couple is a hard habit to break. When something happens - good, bad or funny - my first instinct is still to ring T and tell him. He helped me find and choose the new car, and just last night I emailed to get his opinion on buying a new digital camera (the old one has broken

:( ). He is a useful person to consult about such things, being technically minded where I am most certainly not. But I'm becoming aware that I need to stop relying on him in that way. I need to find my own way. As a single person I not only have to make up my own mind (horrors!!), but also take responsibility for my own decisions.

One of the positives of the last couple of months is that I have begun to rediscover myself. T never stopped me from being myself, but part of the dance of a relationship is in the compromises, negotiations and adjustments we make for each other. It's nothing huge or sinister, just a little accumulation of things that happen so gradually that we are not even aware of how we have changed - until, perhaps we find ourselves alone again. Like remembering that actually, I do like bread - just not the unsliced malted stuff we used to buy because that was what T liked and he ate more bread than me. Or realising that I can eat breakfast in bed if I feel like it, because balancing a tray on my lap doesn't bug me like it did him. Or deciding with a jolt of pleasure that I can - if I choose - now spend hours wandering around an art gallery without feeling guilty because I have a bored partner in tow.

I have been remembering things I like to do - and gradually stopping doing things I don't! - and it is a good feeling, like finding a long-forgotten favourite book.

The flipside is this lack of confidence in myself and my decisions, which sometimes leaves me frozen with uncertainty. But I remember a stronger, braver me and I know she's in there somewhere. Each challenge faced will remind me that I am capable, I am brave, I am confident, and I will grow back into the self-assurance of JUST ME.

And now I think I will go and do that shopping!