spring

Sometimes, when the rain and wind have been at their worst it's been really hard to imagine Spring. But today the sun is (finally) shining, the floors have been mopped and outside in the garden the crocuses, irises, hellebores and snowdrops are all out. The wind has dislodged all sorts of branches from the trees, including lumps of moss and there at the top right hand corner of the photo you'll also see hazelnuts from the corkscrew hazel in our garden. And shining in the Spring light, a box of Hadji Bey Turkish Delight, surely a taste of warm days if ever there was.

grey and misty

Oh it's a bit uninspiring all this rain. Today it's too wet to consider all but the briefest of walks and even then I only go up the hill. The low lying cloud and mist have covered the hill in a blanket of damp grey. Quick - get back home, indoors to the fire, maybe a few stolen pages of reading (the poetic and beautiful essays in Kathleen Jamie's Sightlines). Not quite hibernating but certainly something close to it. 

getting better

This morning was bright, clear and cold. A slight frosting lay on the garden wall. Inside we are slowly recovering from 'flu. The fires are lit and the house is cosy. Last week the postman delivered some cookbooks but I was too unwell to do more than read through them, wishing to be well enough to want to eat, never-mind actually cook. Luckily that has lifted and so with the barest fluffings of snow outside I made cinnamon buns from The Five O'Clock Apron and with their buttery, cinnamon-y raisin filling, they have gone down a treat. A little post-illness indulgence, if you will.

weekending

While Hugo downloads an app to help tune the guitar William, Mide and I do some advanced robotics at the table...

...and that cold, foggy weather means that some almond scones by the fire are just what's needed.

snowfall

Last night snow flakes started to fall and all their talk going to bed was would there be enough snow to make a snowman and would there be enough snow to get off school... 

Sunrise this morning. A dusting but not much more. William came down the stairs at 6.20am to check the time and check the snow. By 8.30am both he and Mide are out in the garden, throwing snowballs and whooping in the freezing air. Not much later they are back in. There isn't enough snow to stop school and off they go.

Sunlight in the dining-room. It is quiet. I roast a butternut squash with garlic and chilli to make salad for lunch and then print some linocut snowdrops, the only noise is the radio mumbling in the background and the crackle of wood in the stove. Then I make flapjacks with oats and golden syrup and butter for the boys when they come in from school. A snow day. A quiet day. Nothing out of the ordinary, but all the better for that.

shadows

The low January sun filtered through the sitting room curtains, with shadows.

wintry days

Slow wintry days. Walks up the hill, reading by candlelight, close to the fire and sunset at five o'clock. The turning of the earth and the stillness after endless rain. This is January.