Winter transition

For 3 days we have been shrouded in freezing fog.  The daytime temperature hovers around minus 1, at night it falls a few degrees.  Any moisture in the trees has been caught and frozen, but interestingly the frost doesn't settle on the ground.
We have been trying to fathom what heralds the onset of winter.  This year we have missed the snowfalls so far.  But suddenly a week ago we had a sudden transition from mild autumn to dark winter.  Iron hard ground and looking out onto this is a pretty definite indicator.

November and still growing...

Shortly after last blog entry, here is the same field sprouted.  Very encouraging to see such jewel like green growth when everything else is apparently shutting down for the winter.

Season progressing

One of the things I love about our part of the world is being so connected with the seasons and how the year changes.  We have one favourite walk from our house which we do regularly, but is never the same.  Each time something is different; the temperature, the wind, the light, the ground underfoot, the stage the trees and plants are at, the birds and their songs - non of these remain the same, and each time we go on the walk something else catches our attention.  The other day we saw 2 tractors working together in a field, one was ploughing the other harrowing and drilling new seed.  Today we went to have a close look at their field, and here it is.  The texture of the soil was so beautifully velvety from a distance, then close up the furrows etched this wonderful pattern in the earth.

  

Last bit of summer

I admit the blog has been a bit quiet of late - but not for want of trying.  I've been gathering lots of material but somehow have been a bit distracted to put it all together. Here though are a couple of shots from our great weekend in Cornwall in September.

    We stayed with Sarah and Graham and family (plus menagerie) and went out for a blast of ozone on Graham's zapcat (here we are heading for the sea).  This is a link here to their luxurious camp overlooking St Michael's Mount.

I also learnt that wetsuits zip up the back.  They were kind enough not to laugh too loud when I first got it wrong.

October 2012

Moments of sunshine in a woody clearing.  But not many mushrooms.  Too cold at night (in my opinion) for our favourite ceps.  Managed to find a few (albeit slightly gnawed ones), just enough to add to some crushed potatoes with tonight's pork - wonderfully intense their flavour.   

May bank holiday, walking over the hill, blustery breezes and bright sky. A linnet clung to the upper most branches of a wych elm and sang for all he was worth (then flew away when I tried to take a photo). I was intending to call it a day with my blog. Recently I have been a bit distracted and haven't managed to do regular blogs. But my dearly beloved says I should keep going.

Died and gone to heaven...

One of those delicious spring mornings, the moment you open the door the smell of new plants and sun on warm earth greets you. Making the most of the promising day we walked our new patch, up the hill behind the our new house and on a lovely lane along the ridge of the hill. We heard larks so high in the sky we couldn't see them, saw newly arrived chiff-chaffs and yellow hammers, and spotted my first sweet violet of the year. The haze came and went, the sun already high enough to feel warm.

Now I have a dilemma, we are nearly through packing up the last of our life at Walcot, so what do I call the new blog? Something to work on...