There's snow place like home

Well I just knew it! Loi d'emerdement again (see 27/10/09). I announce the arrival of spring only to find myself some 10 days later buried under 8 inches of snow, unable to leave the house, with more snow forecast. So, me being me I look around to find the wonder in my present situation. We're fortunate enough to have a 4x4 vehicle (but not so fortunate in that it's been in a garage in macon for the week) and can usually access our house in any condition. However, our guests on Wednesdays drive a car and, as such, weren't able to make it down our snowy lane. No worries- they parked in the church square at Montmelard where Mark and I met them on foot. Wrapped up in multitudinous layers with hats and scarves to boot, the two children were able to approach the house on sledges. Tramping through the snow we marvelled at the upward facing icicles clinging to the blades of grass normally tickled by the numerous water trickles that meander across the farmers fields. Plucking one of these ice pops (complete with grass centre) our friends daughter popped it into her mouth and happily sucked away as she was towed along the frozen footpaths. The sun tried it's best to shine through the gently falling snow and we wondered whether it was possible (or likely) to have a rainbow made by snow (and if so, would it be called a snowbow?) as we sat feasting on pizza and home made carrot cake we watched the birds on the birdtables. I had requested bird feeders for Christmas and had not been dissappointed (I think I had 7 at last count). What wonderful creatures birds are, so agile, so determined. To watch their colour against the snowy backdrop is a joy and to be witness to their activity is a privilege.

We'll weather the weather whatever the weather

You can take the girl out of Britain but you can't take being British out of the girl and the weather remains an ongoing fascination. Like much of Europe it's been a bit blowy here over the past week or so and the winds have had quite an impact on both the scenery and cycle of life here. Having talked about my intention to sweep up the fallen leaves for a couple of weeks, I was thrilled to discover they had been lifted, whisked around and then deposited in neat little piles by the breezy gusts. I was even more impressed to discover that the size of each leaf pile was such that they fitted neatly into a bin liner - remarkable. We have a maple tree at the end of the garden (the most beautiful tree in the valley at this time of year to my mind) and I tirelessly watch it's fallen leaves frog hopping over each other as they chase around the lawn. What a show of colour and energy! The wind has shaken the remaining apples and quinces from our trees which were then washed by the rain before finding their way into a glut of pies and crumbles. The pods from the wisteria have shaken their black button seeds onto the ground (Warning: these closely resemble chocolate Minstrels and should not be eaten) some of which will find a suitable nook to start the process of becoming new plants. As the trees shake off their coats of leaves and prepare to face the winter months, previously shielded views open up around us, I can see the hedgerows dividing the fields, I see more cattle grazing, birds are more easy to spot (I have guests staying at the moment who are keen twitchers - I hope this is the right term, and they're preparing a list that I will share shortly) and sound travels unhindered. We hear our neighbours donkey, the cows calling to each other when the farmer deposits some hay or a salt block, the chug of tractors returning home at the end of the day and me letting Mark know that his tea is ready.