Snowy Evening

The debate as to how much snow is going to be dumped on us overnight has continued most of the day.

Our forage man said it would just miss us.

The fruit grower said we'd get 4 inches of snow overnight.

The lady in the petrol station said we were due to get between 8 & 10 inches of snow by tomorrow!

"Surely not here", I replied desperately hoping we wouldn't get any.

Of course I should have known that we'd get some,

the snow still lies on the land from earlier this week,

that's a sure sign of more.

Evening update, the Land Rover green laning enthusiast has been outside and measured the snowfall so far - 2.4cms to be precise.

That I can live with, please no more tonight....

Holy Innocents by Christina Rossetti - Weekly Poem

 With great sorrow because of Connecticut a poem about the Massacre of the Innocents

THEY scarcely waked before they slept,
They scarcely wept before they laughed;
They drank indeed death's bitter draught,
But all its bitterest dregs were kept
And drained by Mothers while they wept.

From:  The Poetical Works of Christina Georgina Rossetti

Image Source

Hoar Frost - 5 things

-5 and we have a winter wonderland of hoar frost. Yesterday was the first day this winter I was actually cold whilst mucking out the horses. It's going to be a long hard winter. Anyway facts about hoar frost:

Hoar frost is also called radiation frost or hoarfrost or pruina.
Hoar frost  forms on cold clear nights when heat losses into the open skies cause objects to become colder than the surrounding air.
Hoar frost is white ice crystals deposited on the ground or on objects such as the plum trees pictured above.
The word hoar  comes from the old english adjective for showing signs of old age.
 Hoar frost also occurs in man made environments eg. freezers and cold stores.

Update: Mrs Fox has published some glorious hoar frost photographs on her blog Mrs Fox's do go and take a look.

An old firewood rhyme - Weekly Poem

Beechwood fires burn bright and clear
If the logs are kept a year
Store your beech for Christmastide
With new holly laid beside
Chestnut's only good they say
If for years 'tis stayed away
Birch and firwood burn too fast
Blaze too bright and do not last
Flames from larch will shoot up high
Dangerously the sparks will fly
But ashwood green and ashwood brown
Are fit for a Queen with a golden crown.
Oaken logs, if dry and old
Keep away the winter's cold
Poplar gives a bitter smoke
Fills your eyes and makes you choke
Elmwood burns like churchyard mould
Even the very flames burn cold
Hawthorn bakes the sweetest bread
So it is in Ireland said
Applewood will scent the room
Pearwood smells like a flower in bloom
But ashwood wet and ashwood dry
A king may warm his slippers by!

Very appropriate for the time of year don't you think? Keep warm!

Rainy Day Blues - or - The Mud Post

 It's been raining on and off for weeks now and I think that all of  those who spend the majority of their lives outside have probably had enough now. As much as I like the rain, and I do really like the rain, the end result is mud.

 Muddy paw prints in the house, poached paddocks and muddy horses. Pig pens that have completely turned to mud.

Oh well as least Hugo looks happy. I'm so glad I bought new wellies and that they haven't fallen to pieces yet and so very grateful that all we have to contend with is mud.

25 November 1929 floods Wonastow Road in Monmouth, Wales, UK. (Image via Wiki Commons)

A Foggy November Day

 A blanket of fog has covered the land, obscuring the horses,

 dulling the sounds.

Who would know there was an orchard beyond the skeletal plant?

The water laden air brings it's own beauty as it clings to cobwebs that sparkle despite the lack of light.

A few wizened apples cling to the bare branches.

                                                        November                                                           

No sun - no moon!

No morn - no noon -

No dawn - no dusk - no proper time of day.

No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,

No comfortable feel in any member -

No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,

No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds -

November!

By Thomas Hood 1799- 1845