Frosty Nights and Days

I guess it is the middle of November now, and it was inevitable that it had to happen. Yes . . . it has finally snapped cold. All last winter, Todd only had to scrape the windows on our car but once, now, already this year, he has had to do it twice, and it is early days yet. For the past several mornings we have awakened to a widespread frost painting the garden with it's delicate and icy glaze, each leaf and branch and flower petal gilded in it's frozen mantle of cold lace, each petal looking fragile, like porcelain that would break with just a touch, and I fear they truly would.



The water in our birdbath has been frozen on the top these past two mornings, it's watery, ice cold depths covered with a thin crust of ice. We have had to break through it so that the many birds that visit our garden habitat still have water to drink, as cold as it may be. Frozen too, is the water in the rain barrel we keep in a barrel under the drainpipe which hangs from the roof of our garden shed . . . a frozen tendril of the Passion Flower vine that grows along it's backbone, dipping down into the frosty glass like surface . . . all nature is falling asleep for the long winter ahead.



The birds are all puffy looking . . . their feathers all fluffed out to help keep themselves warm. They hop along the frozen ground looking for something to eat, but I think all the worms and grubs have long gone underground and we may not see them again now until a warm sunny day appears. It is time for me to make some fat balls for the birds. I fill them full of apples, peanuts, raisins, bacon fat, sugar, lard and peanut butter, crunchy of course. They love them so . . . as do the squirrels. Perhaps they will tempt the white squirrel into our garden.



The days are much shorter now and when I go up to the big house for my evening shift I am doing the short journey down the lane in dusk. Yesterday afternoon a crescent moon hung low in the sky just over the hedgerow at the back of us while to one side the sun slowly made it's way down past the horizon, bathing everything in it's fading glow.



As I walked I could hear the birds in the trees that surround our cottage and line the lane. "Hurry, hurry," they seem to be calling out to each other, "The day is done and we must rest for the night, hurry, hurry . . ." It is a cheery sound and yet lonely at the same time, quite different than the waking up sounds of the morning.

I must remember to bring my torch with me these days as I now walk home at the end of my working day in the cloak of darkness, down the lane, all is still and quiet, the only sound, the occasional rustle of dry leaves at the foot of the hedgerows as the night creatures that live peaceably amongst us go about their nocturnal chores.



Home I return, tired and content, to the warmth of our kitchen fire and a hot drink of ginger and lemon. That will keep the chills at bay . . . I cosy up on the sofa we keep down here, next to my Todd, with a blanket around my feet as we while away what's left of our evening together. Jess lays quietly on the carpet in front of our feet, basking in the warmth of the fire's glow. All is right with my world. We are a family at home together . . . just us three, as the comforting flicker of firelight threads it's way across our faces. Sigh . . . this is my bliss.