Winter again.

Winter has really struck us again.   There are heavy snow showers and during these it is really 'blizzard conditions'.   There are no papers this morning as the local delivery man who brings them to our newsagent for us to collect, lives ' in the back of beyond' as we say up here.

The main roads are clear but there is a strong wind when it snows and the snow blows through the gateways and begins to block the roads.   Our lane is also very icy.
 
Yet, in spite of all this, our poetry group met yesterday as usual.   Fine for me, who lives just down the road.   But friend, S, who usually calls for me, lives in Coverdale  which is a really remote dale.   Almost all the group turned out, in spite of some of them living in places where conditions were worse than here in our village.

Friend W, who hosts the afternoon, has a lovely large conservatory with underfloor heating - so we can watch the weather in all its fury and yet be snug and warm at the same time.   And, as usual, we had some super poems - Robert Bridges, George McBeth, John Betjamen, John Clare, several modern poets, and always others which I can't remember but which were equally interesting.



 And while all this was going on, our fertiliser for the year arrived at the farm in the middle of a blizzard.   As the lorry was also pulling a trailer, the farmer had to unload the very heavy bags at the farm gate - but of course his tractor is heated - so it wasn't all that much of an effort.   It is always good when we have the fertiliser for Spring ready in the big barn for the right weather to put it on the fields.

Today is certainly a day for sitting by the wood burner.  But hairdresser's appointment at midday means I shall have to negotiate the lane at least once during the day (and possibly our neighbour's sheep, who have suddenly got a taste for roaming down the lane rather than staying in the field).   As I write the sun is shining - a good sign I hope.