The more it
Snows-tiddley-pom
The more it
Goes-tiddley-pom
The more it
Goes-tiddley-pom
on
Snowing.
And Nobody
Knows-tiddley-pom,
How cold my
Toes-tiddley-pom
Are Growing.
The more it snows, tiddely-pom, the more I know tiddely-pom, the tyres maketh the vehicle, tiddely-pom.
With thanks to Winnie the Pooh, winter tyres and Landrover.
The deep freeze continues. But there are buds of hope. Jammy the kitten-cat would like to show you, look he’s pointing.
Tiny blossoms are lying in wait.
Here is the same tree on the 28th March 2011 it looks a little different, frosted granted, but not marooned in snow and ice. I think it’s wild plum, look I’ve even found a recipe for a recipe for wild plum blossom ice cream, written by Blanche Vaughn (I really couldn’t line up any more snowy, white icy themes if I tried).
The snow isn’t going anywhere fast, here is the lane to our house.
Here is Jammy tip-toeing through the snow.
Poor spud the dog has been upstaged by his feline friends this week. Spud can’t really see what all the fuss is about with snow,
It’s tricky these days to take a turn around the field without the company of the cats, whether Spud and I like it or not.
The kitten-cats however are less keen to get their paws to deep in the stuff. They prefer to tiptoe along the wall wherever possible.
They only came down to play when I pulled the mono-pod out of the bag, then quite frankly they were a pain, the idea is it helps steady the camera, not when it has two cats trying to run up and down it, doesn’t.
It is quite frankly enough to drive you up the pole.
Nothing finer than a winter walk for the restoration of equilibrium, Mr Uphilldowndale and I were both in need the other afternoon. We went down by the river, always a good move.
Up through the woods and across the fields.
Spud had a high old time, you can just see him here, heading off towards a rather handsome wall, that’s topped with snow.
At the moment freezing rain is hammering against the windows and the rising wind has been piling snow back into the lanes this afternoon. The forecast is for the weather to get warmer over the weekend and for the snow to melt; we’ll be glad to see the back of it for a while I think. The weather conditions have led to tragedy.
We walked back past the church, not a bat or a bear in sight.
I saw some photos of ‘ zombie snowmen’ in the press this week, I had to admire the skill in their making, their location was described as a disused graveyard in Bristol, it led me to wonder, how can graveyard be disused? Its not like a factory is it? Isn’t always going to be ‘in use’ by its residents?
It was more white than blue around here; well, white with a dollop of grey. I walked to work.
This view is never blue, the myth of today being blue Monday can be explored here.
Walking was easier and safer than driving, I was passed en-route by one of the local farmers who is contracted to go out and plough the lanes. (He is straight talking about those who drive the lanes when they should know better) I thought he might offer me a lift but he ploughed by with a cheery wave, but then he’d probably assumed I was just out with the camera having a photo jolly rather than commuting, it’s an easy mistake to make.
But I was grateful for his work, it made the walk easier, that and my Yaktrax
I passed by a flock of sheep, who seemed reluctant to rise from their slumbers, maybe they think it is blue Monday?
Some had hunkered down in the lea of a bank.
All were snowy
What I can I tell you, we have snow. Is there any part of the UK that doesn’t have snow? I wonder.
The sheep in the next field seem quite unperturbed
They are fed daily, which seems to make them happy.
It took a wee while to find a sheep that would look me in the eye, as most had their backs to the wind (and wind chill).
I can vaguely remember a farmer telling me this is how sheep end up stuck in snow drifts, they keep working their way along, keeping the wind behind them, scratting for grass until they run out of field and the snow piles in behind them.
He also told me in the winter of 1963 that whilst many of his flock perished in snow drifts, some were able to survive by eating their own fleece.
But there are people better qualified to comment of sheep and snow, have a look at herdy’s blog, up in Cumbria.
We’ve just watched a cracking little programme on BBC2 about the winter of ‘63 (flighty, it is worth watching on iplayer (Winterwatch)
Who said Spring had sprung?
Arty photos by Tom, when I took him out first thing to catch a lift; he’s on a first aid course today, for his Duke of Edinburgh award, just as well the award is all about self resilience. He’s got to find his own way home.
And the ‘lightening tree’, stands in the face of another storm in its long life
Blackthorn, part of our hedgerow, we planted it about nine years ago and it is looking rather splendid and well established, we never intended it as ‘stock proof’ sort of barrier, just an enhancement of the ‘green corridor’ that flanks the boundary between our field and the lane.
It also has the look of my hair (and head!) My hair could be described as luggy at the moment. I’ve decided my ‘soft curls’ phase is over, I’m going back to trimmed efficiency at least that way I know where I’m at.
The weather is also messed up, blossom and sunlight is on the wane, snow and wind are forecast. Watch this space.
The snow has gone, for now, these images were taken as it took its leave.
The houses at the foot of the shot above must get no sun all winter… we have often thought how lucky we were to end up with a house on sunny side of a hill, mind it was more through good luck than good management; buying as we did, at the height of summer it was something that never entered our busy little heads.
At this time of year its a landscape that is lean and emaciated or textural and fine boned, depending on your point of view.
Note the ugly white industrial building, bottom left of shot. When the snow is on the ground it is at least it camouflaged, the other 50 weeks of the year it stick out like a sore thumb. Planners please note.
We thought we’d go back to the top of the hill, to illustrate that the terrain wasn’t quite as wild as the mist might have you believe.
The snow was patchy, the fun consistent.
I’d have said there wasn’t a breath of wind,
but I must have been wrong on that count, as when we headed for the top of the hill we found a gentleman flying a kite.
He seemed rather serious about his hobby, in a ‘train spotter’ sort of way and he certainly must have been good at, did I mention there was no wind? Maybe he had a fan heater? However my problem was that Spud seemed worryingly excited about the dancing tail of the kite. Fearing a repeat of the three little girls on the beach incident we took a detour, to save face and/or cost. We will return another day.
