Cold enough for you?

The Met Office has issued a severe weather warning for us soft southerners - 

we can expect to see heavy snow, with strong winds. 

It will be bitterly cold with a severe frost tonight.

The River Thames froze nine times 

between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries.

Dawk's Newsletter of January 14th, 1716, 
describes that winter's frost.

The Thames seems now a solid rock of ice, and booths for the sale of brandy, wine, ale and other exhilarating liquors, have been for sometime fixed thereon; but now it is in a manner like a town: thousands of people cross it, and with wonder view the mountainous heaps of water, that now lie congealed into ice. On Thursday, a great cook's shop was erected, and gentlemen went as frequently to dine there, as at any ordinary. Once over Westminster, Printing-presses are kept upon ice, where many persons have their names printed, to transmit the wonders of the season to posterity. Coaches, waggons, carts etc. were driven on it; and an enthusiastic preacher held forth to a motley congregation on the mighty waters with a zeal fiery enough to have thawed himself through the ice, had it been susceptible to religious warmth. This, with other pastimes and diversions, attracted the attention of many of the nobility, 

and brought the Prince of Wales to visit the Frost Fair.

Thomas Wyke - Thames Frost Fair

Now that's what I call cold

because I'm old enough to remember the winter of 1963.

Sun spots

We have lived in our house for about 17 years.

It sits on a South East /North West axis.

The front of the house though south facing, is shaded by tall trees, 

the back is more open but the sun arcs along the western boundary 

of the garden for most of the year 

and rarely penetrates far into the house

because unfortunately the rooms on that side are, shall we say, 'utilitarian'.

But just once in a while, the sun strikes the house in a new and extraordinary manner.

It takes a felicitous combination of season, time of day, weather condition and

my deliberate observation to see this.

It has taken 17 years for me to notice what happened yesterday.

The sun was visible at a much lower elevation than usual,

directly opposite the house 

in a gap between terraced houses, 

made by a side road.

One tree was resplendent 

for 18 minutes.

This is its moment in the sun.

I might never see it again.

Milly-Molly-Mandy goes to a Party*

(if you are allergic to whimsy please pass)

Milly-Molly-Mandy had not been to a real party for a long time so she was very pleased and interested when Mother said,

'Well, Milly-Molly-Mandy, you must have a proper new dress 
for a party like this. 
We must think what we can do.'

Mother went to the big wardrobe and rummaged in her bottom drawer until she found a most beautiful white silk scarf, which she had worn when she was married to Father, and it was just wide enough to be made into a party frock for Milly-Molly-Mandy.

Then Grandma brought out of her best handkerchief box a most beautiful lace handkerchief which would just cut into a little collar for the neck of the party frock. 

Aunty brought out some most beautiful pink ribbon, all smelling of lavender - just enough to make a sash for the party frock.

Father bought her the most beautiful little pair of red shoes.

Grandpa gave her the most beautiful little coral necklace.

Uncle pretended he had lost his handkerchief and 
pulled out of his pocket 

the most beautiful little handkerchief with a pink border.

Lucille had an invitation to a party.

She had not seen some of these friends for over twenty years.

The invitation said please wear vintage black with a flash of red.

She wanted to go very much but oh dear - 

she had no vintage black unless you counted her 
old black gym T-shirt.

Her friend Maddy said,

'You can have my black party dress and my black cashmere jumper.'

Her friend Marian said,

'You can have my long black skirt with fringing.'

Her friend Rachael, said,

'You can have my black silk scarf.' 

And this was very kind of all of them.

But Lucille thought it might be a good idea to have her own l.b.d

if at all possible, so she went shopping on a well known internet 
auction site and 'won' this:

It was black wool crepe. It was 1950s vintage. And it fitted.
It was a pity that one of the buttons was missing.


She wore it with a twenty year old Liberty Tana lawn blouse
 which she found at the back of the big wardrobe.
And then she pinned on the most beautiful little brooch
where the button should have been,

because nothing flashes like diamonds
and rubies are red.


*Joyce Lankester Brisley 1928

2

in the garden

An old favourite walk

revisited

The deck of cards

I was going to set up a review of the year in pictures,

optimistically thinking I could quickly choose twelve photos 

to represent each month of 2009.

One hundred and forty two carefully considered selections later, 
I had only reached June.

As I sit here in the early encroaching darkness

I am encouraged by the long, light-filled days,

fascinated by the flowers, fruits, fields, frogs, fires, markets, music,

 trees, travels, birds, badges, buildings, books, birthdays, blossom, 

cakes, cows, clouds, reflections, rainbows, soups, sons, sunrises and sunsets.

I am refreshed by the sea, snow, streams, parks, people, parties.

I am replenished by the food, feasting and foraging.

I had underestimated all the walking, stretching, running, 
swimming, swinging, 
climbing, driving, flying, cycling.

Spring Summer Autumn and Winter

all captured, all compressed.

I've fanned them out

like a pack of cards.

And scooped them closed again.

Pick a number, any number.

1710

It's the 19th of March.

 06:32:2009.

Sunrise from our bedroom window.

I'm happy with that.
Thank you.

Sweet no things

As we leave behind us the season of excess

and are taken once more by the gentle hands

of Reason and Restraint,

we talk earnestly of decluttering and simplifying our lives.

This is a sincere goal but a difficult one to attain.

Wanting is like an itch. 

Scratching is irresistible but only makes the itch worse.

I think I may have found a soothing balm for our acquisitive yearnings.

Suppress that urge with virtual possessions.

They are free.

They are the loveliest things.

And they never need dusting.

Here is my first new no thing,

I found it in Beth Chatto's Garden Notebook.

...a little pewter jug filled with snowdrops...

In the warmth of the room the snow-white petals have opened over prim,

closely-folded petals,

each bearing a green heart-shaped mark

at the tip.

Une petite soirée chez nous

Watching this.

We know how to party.

Busy going nowhere

The birds have been wonderfully bold this last week since their usual hunting grounds have been buried in snow. The Blackbirds and Thrushes are usually rather shy, and fly away at the approach of anyone, but now, they only hop away to a little distance and sit watching with their bright eyes, from beneath the friendly shelter of a bush, waiting to go back to their feast of crumbs. The Tits and the Robins and Sparrows scarcely take any notice of one. I have noticed chaffinches feeding among the other birds the last few days, they seldom come to feed.

We too have had chaffinches at the feeders. A first.

I rather like this vintage bird feeding station.

Although she* says,
I don't think the Robins really care for cocoa-nut; but they don't like to see the Tits enjoying anything, without claiming a share.


from *Edith Holden's Country Diary of an Edwardian  Lady

I must add a cocoa-nut to my shopping list 
just for the sheer pleasure of spelling it this way.

Looking out

on the Feast of Stephen.

The Holly and the Ivy

They decorated every room, from the kitchen 

where every lustre jug had its sprig in its mouth, 

every brass candlestick had its chaplet, 

every copper saucepan and preserving pan had its wreath of 

shining berries and leaves,

 through the hall, which was a bower of green,

to the two parlours which were festooned 

and hung with holly and boughs of fir,

 and ivy berries dipped in red raddle, 
left over from the sheep marking.

Holly decked every picture and ornament.

Sprays hung over the bacon and twisted round hams 
and herb bunches.

the clock carried a crown on his head,

and every dish-cover had a little sprig.

Susan kept an eye on the lonely forgotten humble things,

the jelly moulds and colanders and nut-meg graters,

and made them happy with glossy leaves.

Everything seemed to speak, to ask for its morsel of greenery,

and she tried to leave out nothing.

from The Country Child by Alison Uttley

Last minute forgetting

Up early

and down to the pine scented hall.

Out into the still quiet street.

Off to Borough Market.

Forgot the figs.

No matter.

Found these growing

outside Southwark Cathedral.

White stripes

Clean, clean, clean, clean

clean, clean,clean.

Clean, clean, clean, clean, clean.

And a dish of kumquats.

This was going to be

a bird boast post,
to show you the huge variety we have visiting our feeders.

wren, robin

bluetit, starling

magpie, blackbird

goldfinch, greenfinch

great tit, coal tit

house sparrow, tree sparrow

rook, goldcrest

even a greater spotted woodpecker.
Not to mention redwing, wood pigeon, ring necked parakeets.
But the one garden bird that remained elusive,
was:

the thrush.


Until today when I found

this.


We think he flew into our window.
So sad.

 First, Second and Third Ladybird Books of British Birds

illustrated by Allen W. Seaby and Roland Green M.B.O.U.,F.R.S.A  

Snow Ball

One of us

is preparing for a dinner party tonight.

A lavish menu has been planned

and every pot, pan, chopping board, knife,

ladle, worksurface, gadget,

and recipe book has been pressed into service.

The scene is set.

Guests to be seated by 8 p.m.

His younger brother's special champagne jellies

are in the fridge.

There may be dancing.

The rest of us are going out.

 It's pretty cold out there.

We hope that the Snow Ball will not go on until dawn.


Brambly Hedge Winter Story by Jill Barklem

'Cheer up, cheer up!'

WHEN LUCY MOUSE

reached the bank where Mr and Mrs Nibble lived 

with their three children,

all she could see was snow.

No front doors, no little windows - just snow.

'Oh dear,' she thought. 'My poor friends!' and she called very loudly:

'Cheer up, cheer up! We've come to dig you out!'

Actually we barely had enough snow to reach a mouse's kneecap

so we certainly didn't have to dig anyone out,

but I did have the chance to rescue someone 

with a polystyrene box of provisions.

We had an erroneous frozen goose delivery, five days too early

and nowhere to store it until Christmas Day.

Providentially the company had been unable to meet the demand for geese  

and one of their disappointed customers,

 lived just round the corner.

'HOW VERY VERY 
kind of you to  come and help us,' said Mr Nibble.
'and how very, very good of you
to bring us food.
We're very hungry.
Please come in and share it with us.'

Snow at Blackberry Farm

IT BEGAN TO SNOW

at Blackberry Farm just before tea.

Great, big, white flakes

slowly covered everything.

The animals peeped out to watch.

WHEN ERNEST

Owl looked out in the

middle of the night,

it was still snowing.

He watched for a little while and then went back to bed,

saying to himself:

'It will be very deep in the morning.'

For Il Fratello.
Blackberry Farm Book - 21
by Jane Pilgrim

The Robin

We can hardly keep up with the feeder filling.

And I feel terribly guilty when I see the birds queuing

forlornly at the empty ones.

The robin hops up to the kitchen window and looks in quite accusingly

From Something to Do in December

You will often see the robin this month, 

but that is not the real reason why it is a Christmas bird. 

Until about a hundred years ago, postmen wore red coats, 

and were nicknamed 'Robin', 
so when Christmas cards became popular 
the robin was used as a cheerful symbol of the postman.

Postman Joe from the Blackberry Farm Books.

Blue shadows

Snow lay thick on the fields and the woods 
cast blue shadows across it.

The fir trees were like sparkling, gem-laden Christmas trees, 

the only ones Susan had ever seen.

The orchard, with the lacy boughs outlined with snow, 

was a grove of fairy trees.

The woods were enchanted, exquisite, the trees were holy,

and anything harmful had shrunken to a thin wisp 

and had retreated into the depths.

from The Country Child by Alison Uttley