I tend to change my blog-head image
in line with the seasons. I like to reflect aspects of this "Little Corner
of the Earth". Hence you will now find a snowy landscape looking towards
the scarp which defines the limit of Romney Marsh.
I know, I know….the weather is at
present pretty clement for December but in my book the winter months are
December, January & February and that means snow. I quite enjoy snow, more so now I am
retired and can choose when to enjoy it and when to leave it alone.
I am 76 (very nearly 77) and I can only remember two white
Christmases; that clichéd description of an event often described but
seldom happening.
To be out in the snow by purpose is
to become an adventurer, a lone individual. Motorcycling can be difficult in snow although I can remember, when young, some joyous occasions when it was
done by choice.
and others, when commuting to army camp, when my frozen, set
knees would not let me get off the bike and sheets of ice fell from me!
But cycling, provided the roads are
not iced can be most pleasant. Floating through an unpeopled, silent landscape.
It’s good when you leave off, too. To sit somewhere, unhitch the flask of
brandy-slugged coffee and perhaps the odd mince pie or two, gradually feeling
warmth returning to frozen extremities as the liquid does its job.
My daughter, of old blog signature HHnB
(now sadly no “B” as Bryn the Australian Blue Heeler succumbed to old age last year) and
her husband are returning to the UK from Australia to spend a month with us
over Christmas. She is so hoping for some snow. An English girl, she remembers
snow with affection – even rain and mud will be a pleasure!
She copes (just about, with air con)
in the Perth W.A. climate but always longs for British weather and this will be
the first time in some 15 years that they have returned in winter. So we hope
for a little of the white stuff to “please a lady”
When icicles hang
by the wall,
And Dick the
shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs
into the hall,
And milk comes
frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp’d
and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings
the staring owl
Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry
note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
8 comments:
Lovely to know HHB will be overwintering with you!
Our hardy winter travellers are currently held on the other side of the Channel by seasonal gales, and we're hope we will be able to make it to snowy Iceland.
I enjoy snow, too, but that's at least partly because it's a novelty for me unless I make an effort to seek it out. That usually requires a long climb onto the tops of the Ruahine Range. Here, of course, we're in early summer, and I have to say I prefer the warmth and the long days.
Hallo Pa,
See you soon!
I remember that school coat. Gabardine. The scarf was yellow and the gum boots de rigueur!
HHB The daughter x
Love the new header. Rather envious of your cool weather. Please send the daughter my love and hope you all have a wonderful month together.
Lucy:
I hope the winds drops for you (and for me - it precludes cycling at present and I am going stir-crazy!)
P'Pete:
Yes, I must admit that warm, sunny days are beginning to be my preference too, since arthritis increases with age - cold and damp don't help.
Duaghter:
Don't you look the image of a neat and tidy schoolgirl. See you on Tuesday. x
Robyn:
Thanks for visiting and your approval of the header. I shall see Susan on Tuesday when they arrive from Oz to spend Christmas with us and shall convey your felicitations to her.
Avus: I think I could have done without learning that Blue Dog was done for. The initials HHB came easily to hand and there was always this minor conceit that the Voice Of Western Australia was in some way connected with the British government or, perhaps, Buck Palace. Mind you I suppose any abbreviation would be just as evocative. My regards to the Voice and hubby, still grandly bearded I assume. She tolerated my endless questions about the nature of Oz, occasionally comments on Tone Deaf (sadly anonymously self-identified as Anonymous) and once posted a photograph of her book-shelf which led to a pleasant twenty minutes with a magnifying glass, as I tried to read the spines.
Gros Calin is a Blogger aberration, a blast from the past, the result of tinkering with the sign-in procedure. It is for one thing a very funny novel (in French) by Romain Gary, it is also a fledgling blog done entirely in French that seemed like a good idea back in 2009, very quickly less so. One of those show-off gestures by the most pretentious of your commenters - otherwise known as RR.
RR:
I hope my daughter sees your comment (she will anyway in a couple of days time when she arrives here).
see also my next post
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