As the days have been so long in the last few months, I’ve gotten in the habit of taking Ginger out for a walk after dinner. Just the two of us. It’s a lovely way to clear my head, digest my dinner, and enjoy the last of the evening light before settling in for the evening.
This field is called Middle Fairgreen, and it’s just next to our cottage. This was in May when the dandelions were everywhere, and the grass was still relatively short...
For all the animal joy that exists on the farm in every direction that you look – chickens, kittens and dogs on the lawn, pigs and horses in the stables, donkeys and more horses across the field – there is, unfortunately, also a good dose of animal heartache.
Late in the autumn, Coco lost one of her beloved pigs suddenly and without explanation. The twin Gloucestershire Old Spots had been her 10th birthday present the summer before last, and she fed them and cared for them all that first summer...
Now that the weather is getting more appropriately spring-like, and I won’t be needing to use the wood-burning stove in my office so much, I’m wondering how I’m going to keep my soup warm at lunch time?..
With the abysmal spring weather we’ve been having in England, the one consolation is the overwhelming joy of meeting all the precious baby animals, both on our farm and on neighbouring ones. Just before the first of March my brother-in-law received 3 eight-week-old kunekune pigs to add to his existing 2 giant adult kunekunes. As soon as we opened their cages on the back of the pick-up we scooped them up into our arms and cuddled them. Delicious! It would be a short-lived pleasure though, as in just a week they were too heavy to lift and already too independent to seek human affection. Still, they’re heaven to look at. ..
You may really think I’ve lost it now. I mean the chickens, horses, pigs, donkeys, and sheep are one thing. And let’s not forget Ginger, the most photogenic dog there ever was. But dedicating a whole post to my cats?!? I don’t think so.
The truth is – I’ve been holding this post for a while. Every time I would think of bringing it to life, I would tell myself, “Amanda, you cannot do a whole post on your cats.”..
When we first came back to England in January, I felt that the gloomy weather might finally get to me. It was grey, wet, and dark for the good part of every day. There had been so much novelty in the fall leading up to Christmas – blackberry season, apple season, the changing of the leaves, the first frost, the first hard frost – and now I just felt like everything was dead, and that it would be a while until new life emerged...
I experienced my first English hard frost last week. I have rarely, if ever, seen this in America. I was on my way to pick up my mom at the airport, so I was crossing my fingers for good weather. On the morning of her arrival, I had woken up to thick fog that morning and figured it would clear by lunchtime. Instead of clearing, the fog only got soupier throughout the day. It was kind of amazing as we went out for a walk in the afternoon, but I was actually scared to drive to pick the kids up from school in the fading light. It was the slowest I have ever driven. Slightly bummed that the weather had not cooperated, I went to bed hoping for a better day that followed. The next morning, the sky was clear, the sun was just rising and, at first it looked like it had snowed. Everything was white. I went outside in my pyjamas to take a picture of the garden and then wandered down the bridle path to the horse field and then all the way back up the hill to the view from the pillars at the old entrance to the farm. The difference between the frost and a snowfall is that snow just dumps down leaving a heavy blanket over the land, whereas the frost gently and delicately just lines everything in white. Every blade of grass and leaf on every tree is visible, yet frozen and shimmering. It turns out that the humidity in the air from the fog had settled into the landscape and then frozen over night. Mom and I agreed it was one of the most beautiful things we have ever seen.
In England, the fog is one of the the first signs that autumn is coming. This year it started in the beginning of September, so early in the morning that you could easily miss it if you slept in. The first time I saw it, while looking out my bedroom window at the crack of dawn, it took my eyes a minute to adjust to the fact that it wasn’t water flooding the valley below us. Now that I’ve seen the fog on quite a few mornings, I have noticed that it starts as a thick, flat blanket deep in the valley with the hills rising up through it like the humps of a sea monster...
Although I have spent time in England every year for the last 16 years, the one season I have never witnessed is autumn. While the pictures may look similar to an American fall, in reality it is completely different. Nature in England makes it’s evolution slowly and individually, with each tree seemingly at it’s own pace, whereas the American version seems to hit you over the head all at once. The result of which may be more spectacular, as you get the peak of the color all at once, but I am enjoying the more gradual change here...
Here’s the thing about the dreaded English weather. It’s not that bad. Really. You just have to get the hang of it, which entails dropping everything (no matter how important) to run outside when the sun is shining. As long as I get my hour or so of outdoor time each day, or even just most days, I am fine. The trouble is, you don’t know when that is going to be. Take last Friday for example. The kids were home on their half-term break so I planned to ride with them in the morning when the sun was even just hinting at coming out...
