Joys of Winter

And mine. And lots of other things. I suspect the blackbirds though of tring to uproot my carefully tended wild garlic !

Wood pigeons are responsible for the failure of my broccoli plants.

Here wood pigeons eat anything and every thing! Dratted pesky things. Along with the blasted magpies !

That is a very nice picture, butty. I'm smiling at the wellies on newspaper, sniffing the delicious soup smells, and I love that ivy. Here woodpigeons eat the ivy fruits.

Ariadne - au crepuscule - at twilight.

Jess.

yes i think snow melt counts

crepuscular I love that word; it has all the resonances of that time of day. The French is "le crepuscule" (la?) isn't it?

This afternoon
It's January's end
With lanes of snow-melt,
Mud and grub
Wellies in the kitchen
Are dribbling and dampened
Flopped over on scuffed up newspaper
In the corner
After a visit to the barn
For stored onions, potatoes, leeks
A bounty for winter pots of soup.

The rain gauge is full of snow -
Does snow thaw count?
It sits near the barn arch
Where the cutting wind races through,
Covered in drooping and tatty-edged ivy
Smelling of old wet dust and ivy-ness
Holding heavy heads of black seeds
And the leaden, malevolent
Shot grey-sepia sky
Promises more snow for tomorrow.

Well, ours 'mix' with deer all the time. Which is to say, they don't mix because chickens are day time critters and deer are whatever-that-word-is-that-describes-dusk-and-dawn-using animals. In short, the chickens have gone to bed or not got up when the deer (roe and red in our case) turn up. I expect the same would apply to badgers, but there aren't any of those where I live.

Ah! Just remembered: crepuscular.

A visiting deer is a nightmare in the garden! We had a muntjack a couple of years back. It loved Bizzie Lizzies! And other things.

I saw little green buds on some Hazel today. And the catkins have unfurled. Lovely!

Would they mix with the badgers and deer that also invade his garden. His wife is convinced the deer think the plants she plant are especially for the m

Suggested cure for molehills: get some chickens. They'll spread out the heaps for you.

ogm - I can smell the salt.

Sounds lovely!

My far flung 'clan' are having a gathering on Anglesey this summer. I think I'm the second furthest away after my middle brother in upstate New York. Hopefully it will span four generations.

Bagitha it's one of those 'untranslatable' words but sort of means a longing (for one's homeland) Why I long for Anglesey, I don't know! In tracing my ancestry I find I can only be described as European!

Wet pebbles, super .

That's very evocative, OGM . I had to look up the Welsh word. The Scots have that too but I don't know the word for it. Hoping to get a chance to learn some Gaelic soon though.

supernana.... your lovely poem evokes the old Welsh hiraeth!

I remember perfect days of icy calm,
Rootling around in rock pools
'til my hands turned blue.
Striding, leaden footed,through sandhills
Cold legs whipped by sharp blades
Of marram grass.
Stopping again and again to catch my breath,
Holding up my face
To the pale winter sun.
Leaving behind the shining sea.

what - Very cold here today, too. Biking? Impressed!

Can't do it
Won't do it
Would like to do it
....with an electric motor.

I could smell the soil and the ferns, see your ancient tree and feel your tiring energy, bagitha. . What lovely pleasures.

Annobel - ditto.

Dear annobel
What the hell
I'll pen my verse
I can't do worse!

jeni, now you've started on the poetry, there's no stopping you. Great stuff! Keep going!