MUCK, MIST AND MAGAZINES

I am a fogey in a fog - a cold chilling fog - it penetrates to the
bone. The trees are long-limbed ghosts, dripping in the mizzle.
Everything is still, so still that the movement of a bird stands out and draws the eye.

The shifting of horse manure goes on, day after day, one barrow pushed up the steep hill from the muck mountain in the corner of the horse field by the gate. Now I am clearing the dead remnants of plants from the flower beds ahead of the spreading and loading up the compost bays. The grasses, miscanthus and stipa, are left and look good - fountains of light brown against the grey of the day.

Yesterday I had an urgent telephone call from my Grandson - he had been out walking and found a fossil in a stone. So, out I go to the garden and root amongst the many pieces of stone gathered from all the places we have visited. I find a good fossil, clean it and put it with the gathering collection of bits and pieces to take down to him and his sister (and his parents) when we go later this winter to grandchild sit, (not on them).

The chipping paths in the garden have suffered with the rain and are muddy. A new layer was needed so two large builders' bags of blue slate chippings were delivered late yesterday - lorry too big for our narrow gate and so on of course despite warnings. The sacks now sit atop a low wall (easier to fill the wheelbarrow from above) waiting for muscle power (he comes on Monday).

The rain eased, the water level in the stream has fallen to reveal mud and silt washed down from the field and filling the two ponds - more digging needed!

Just once since the beginning of the year (perhaps twice) has the sun shone. Then it lights up the pansies in the pots - a success. So is the sarcococcus by the door where its scent wafts over me each time I pass. I put the winter-flowering honeysuckle on the banking - this was a mistake. it needs moving to somewhere I can smell that as well.

So, what can one do when the days are drear and the darkness pervades all?
The woodburner can be lit, a mug filled and magazines - such as the three shown - read, and catalogues perused.
R has said that we do not need more plants, we have more than enough.
I wonder if she knows I have twelve catmints and twenty senecios (whoops brachyglottis now) rooting in the shed?

I did not put in any more wallflowers in the autumn, the slugs ate the lot, but have noticed last year's are coming into bud already. They are now small shrubs with woody stems.

So from the fogey in the fog, here are good wishes to all for the New Year.
(ps. 6 month scan OK, next check in July)

Yesterday I sat out in the chill for an hour waiting for the delivery of the chippings and it just felt wonderful to be alive, a very small part of this fantastic thing called Earth, a part of the magic, listening to birds call and distant voices across the fields, feeling the sharpness of the air on my face, to be happy.