Since resuming a quasi-rhythm post Christmas and New Year the pace is still slow here on our patch.
We had a much longed for respite from the rain which then made way for frost. The temperatures dropped and we woke to glistening white across the fields. Our land, still water-logged now a patchy ice-rink. We pull on our wellies, now adding another pair of socks for extra warmth (read on for the cosiest and most durable, socks I have found yet) and crunch over icy puddles until our feet sink into the muddy ground below.
Nick goes back to the routine of work; three days in London, two working from home. I resume my studies, and the children get back into the slow flow of their version of child and teen-hood.
The wood burner is lit by the first one up and poked a bit by the second one rising. The corners of the window panes have a light condensation, and the view beyond is wintery and sparse.
Hot cacao is made on repeat. Any excuse for a warming mug; because we’re chilly, after taking kitchen scraps to the compost, returning from playing and working outside, to accompany an evening movie…