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.

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VW UP… Up And Away … Eat Your Heart Out Betsy Land Rover! …

 

Good Morning AllMH900262538

 

It has stopped snowing! Hurrah! Having said that the temperature is still -4. But not to worry. They predict a cold week and then after that who knows? We could have a mini heat wave? I may have to abandon The Sleeping Field and start pushing seeds into compost faster than a squirrel hoarding his nuts! Talking of which …

Yesterday we decided to pop off in the morning and see Richard’s mum, Betty, she, after whom the dear rot-box that is Richard’s Land Rover is named. I prefer to take the motorway. Richard prefers to take the cross-country, scenic route. I prefer the shortest point between A and B. Richard prefers to go around the houses – usually getting lost on the way. So I was a little surprised as we turned right off the drive and headed for the M1. It was totally clear and no incidents occurred.

When we left Betty’s house Richard headed back towards the M1 and I flicked through a magazine that his mum had given to me. When I looked up we were heading towards the country.  I remarked sharply, ‘Where’s the motorway!’

He mumbled, ‘Thought we’d go back cross-country.’

‘You idiot!’ I spat. ‘If we get stuck in a snow drift don’t expect me to be impressed. And you can bloody well get us out of it!’

Silence ensued but I could almost hear Richards ‘chuffness’ at the fact that the lanes were quite passable. And then it happened. We suddenly came up behind a snow plough. Richard stopped the car and his vibe changed. I said nothing. He pulled around the plough which appeared stuck in the snow and from that point onwards it was like something out of Ice Station Zebra. The wind had whisked the snow into twelve-foot drifts with just the narrowest of tracks leading through them. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t need to. With the drifts towering above us, Richard, with his nose pressed hard to the screen and me contemplating calling a taxi and leaving Richard with the car, we crept on.

Eventually we came out the other side and Richard, who was looking quite pink and slightly guilty said, ‘That was fun wasn’t it?’

Actually, and I would rather die than admit this to him but it was fun. And beautiful. Totally and utterly beautiful. Nature at its prettiest. And our little VW UP coped beautifully with not a slip or a skid at any point. Eat your heart out Betsy you old heap of tin!

My new garden shed arrives today!! Yippee! Unfortunately you can’t see the garden for the snow so I fear it will have to wait for the thaw before we can begin construction of said article. Oh well, Rome wasn’t built in a day so I guess there is no shame in not building a shed in one day either?

… Oh hold the sodding horses! Richard has just received a call from the ‘shed people.’ They can’t get through the snow so it is going to have to be tomorrow now! Brilliant! Bloody brilliant! Who are these people? WE ploughed through snow drifts in a tiny VW UP – they have a truck! Where is the Dunkirk spirit? That’s what I want to know? This only happens in Britain. You do know that don’t you? Pathetic! A mere sprinkling of snow and the country grinds to a halt. Oh well, I learnt a long time ago not to beat myself up regarding things which are out of my control.

I’m clock watching. I can’t wait for 1.30 when Richard goes to work. I NEED to work on my novel but simply can’t with him on the premises.

‘How do you set the video?’ ‘Do you know where my thermal socks are?’ ‘What do you think I should take to work for my tea/supper/snack?’

I don’t know and I don’t care. Just bugger off to work and let me get on with my book. I’m a good mind to tell him that I need the car this afternoon and make him go to work on his ‘pizza delivery’ moped. Lets see if he decides to go ‘cross country’ on that! I may even go out there into the snow, find a shovel and attach it to the back of the moped for him!

But of course, I won’t. I shall just have to turn off my brain for a few hours and hope that I can find the enthusiasm to write after he has gone to work. It’s tough though because I’m a morning person and I write best in the mornings. Oh well, it appears you can’t have everything – neither peaceful writing time or a garden shed.

I shall have to go and find his bloody thermal socks now. It’s way too much to expect him to find them. Maybe I need to label his sock drawer, ‘Sock Drawer.’ Perhaps then the clue will be in the labelling and he can find his own socks?

 

Take care my lovelies x

 

PS A huge welcome to those of you who have recently started following this blog. Lovely to meet you and please feel free to comment/share -whatever.

PPS I also wanted to say that any comment which gets delivered to my spam box gets deleted whether it looks cool or not. And I will always delete comments that may be hurtful or inconsiderate to others who read this blog. That, to date, has not been necessary because my readers are lovely, sensitive human beings.