Memories Are Made Of This . . .

In the past I have often found that some things just aren’t worth the effort. However, when the snow came, just after Christmas, and the outside world was transformed from muddy greys and browns to perfect white I knew in my heart that driving the twenty-six miles to the wood in a snow storm would be.

With warnings on the early morning news of ‘Don’t venture out unless you have to,’ we joyously loaded up the old Land Rover with essentials – Jammy Dodgers, Cup a Soup, cheese sandwiches and the makings for tea and coffee for us and buckets of fat balls, mixed corn and everything else that a snow-bound woodland bird might require.

It was still dark as we set off, with the ancient headlights blearily focusing on the driving snow. We can do the trip to the wood in forty minutes on a good day, with a tail wind and in the car. In the Land Rover it takes longer, much longer, and that’s on a good day.

As we chugged round bends with the snow still falling, and now no way of knowing where the road ended and the verge began, we came across a car attempting to climb what, under normal conditions, could be classed as an insignificant rise in the road but today mirrored Everest. It appeared to be moving – and we were moving behind it when suddenly it spun into the centre of the road. Richard, with the reactions of a sleeping dormouse, swung the Land Rover hard to avoid hitting the car. This resulted in the dear thing losing its grip (literally) and jack-knifing to the right. Richard over-steered attempting to miss the car that was now stuck back-to-front in the middle of the road. This resulted in us spinning off to the left, sideways-on, to a wall that got closer and closer.

I don’t know if I stopped breathing and I won’t say my life flashed in front of me but I gritted my teeth, grimaced and waited for us to take-out someone’s front wall, all the while wondering how much it was going to cost to replace.

Fortunately we stopped with a coat of paint between the Land Rover and the wall. At this point Richard emitted a loud, ‘RIGHT!’ and clambered out of the Land Rover into a snow drift. I saw him disappear below the headlights as he fiddled with something, before returning, looking like he’d been iced. He growled his way into the Land Rover and spat, ‘that’s it! I’ve put it into four-wheel drive!’

Now, call me a woman driver if you like but I thought the whole purpose of having the benefit of four-wheel drive was to actually use it when conditions dictated? I didn’t query this, I didn’t need to because I knew he was still feeling monumentally embarrassed for over-steering in the first place (he’s a self-proclaimed super-duper driver you see) and it almost resulting in the bill for rebuilding a wall.

We continued for another half mile or so until we approached a large roundabout. There was a car about to enter the roundabout and we all know the rule – give way to traffic from the right. This we did, only to see the car enter the roundabout, lose its grip, and sail off sideways down the first exit. At this we laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Nervous tension you see.

We reached the wood without further incident and as we pulled up at the gate and saw the beauty of what lay before us we knew the journey had been well worth it. The whole wood was cloaked in white. Snow fell silently. As we drove along the track to our little copse a buzzard took-up before us and flew on silent wings into the falling snow.

The birds were beyond excited to see us as we trudged through the snow, to the shed, laden with their supplies and swooped and fed hungrily as soon as I’d replenished the 8 feeders and 2 bird tables. We have a growing collection of birds now, blue tits, great tits, coal tits, nuthatches, woodpeckers, robins, blackbirds, tree creepers – and we even have a visiting pheasant. I won’t mention the gang (or gangs) of squirrels! They are the bad boys and girls of the wood, chomping their way through everything edible and inedible. They have ruined 4 feeders to date.

Once the wildlife was sorted we put the kettle on and sat and watched the wood. That’s it. We sat and watched the wood. I can’t describe the feeling. Other than the beating of birds’ wings the whole wood was silent. No sound came from the distant road. It was perfect.






Some may say that it was stupid driving all that way to feed birds and sit and stare at snow-covered trees but I don’t care. We haven’t yet had the wood for a full year and I wanted to see it in snow for the first time. I didn’t want to miss that and I didn’t. Sometimes, to make a lasting memory you have to put in a little effort.

Now I’m waiting to see if the area of meadow grass that I planted in the autumn comes up in the spring. Or, if the daffodils I planted along one of the banks can out-fox the squirrels and pop-up and bloom without the little monsters realising they are there. And will the wild garlic I took from the garden and planted in a shady spot grow?

I am, now, at last, understanding the full meaning of the changing of the seasons. It is happening before my very eyes and I couldn’t be more content or happier.

22 thoughts on “Memories Are Made Of This . . .

  1. Gail, I cannot stand the cold any more but, and here is the thing, I can respect and admire your views of watching snow fall silently on trees, sheltered from the sound of traffic. Thinking of how those birds appreciate your food in time of hardship during our cold winters. There is not much fodder around in winter and those far balls will keep them going and repay you in spring in song and twitteing babies and some repearing the proceedure. I Bless you both ( even for the swuirrels. Hey, are they nit supposed to be asleep?) good luck with mire to come.

    Liked by 2 people

    • Thanks Evelyn. When we first had the wood there was no birdsong at all and little evidence of them, but now all that has changed. I’m hoping they will make good use of the nest boxes we have put up.


  2. Can’t beat an old Land Rover in the snow ….. well so long as the freewheeling hubs are engaged BEFORE setting off so four wheel drive can be selected as and when necessary 😉

    So glad you arrived unscathed and were able to enjoy the peace and tranquillity of your beautiful woodland x

    Liked by 2 people

  3. So breathtakingly beautiful. I would have sat in silence staring as well, for hours. What a treasure! Pictures superb. Have never seen snow myself, so very envious.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. We’re in the middle of bushfire season here in Australia, and as I constantly mow and clear to reduce the fire danger, I wonder why I’m working so hard. Then, suddenly it’s the Golden Hour and the sheer, bloody beauty of this place makes me want to cry. In a good way. Sitting and looking and making memories. Oh yes. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

    • If you could have seen the birds flitting around, almost within arm’s length waiting for the feeders to be filled Lisl. It was amazing – and unbelievably humbling. They cost me a small fortune but I consider it so worth it. xxx


  5. I love this post. It’s a true work of art. You infused the atmosphere perfectly. I felt I was sharing your beautiful space in time when the world stood still.
    At first I thought you would spend the journey pulling other travellers from snow drifts, but of course, the fall wasn’t quite heavy enough.
    Altogether a wonderful experience. Well done and thanks.


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