It has been a terribly long wait since The Priory had snow enough to show and tell: a five-year wait. The Beast from the East didn’t bring huge amounts of snow to my corner of Sussex; but if we were spared the havoc meted out to parts of the Kingdom, we had sufficient for me to lose several day’s pay. But on Wednesday morning the skies cleared and keen to see The Priory wearing her rare cloak, Jim and I braved the roads to drive the half hour from our home, left the car on the road and walked down the drive.
A four-by-four might have coped with this icy slope the day before,
but I know from bitter experience that an ordinary car might not. An hour of side-sliding and back-sliding in my own car, with spinning wheels under a pall of burning rubber, tends to stick in the mind. As do memories of The Priory owner’s car marooned down below for several days.
At -3.5ºC it was bitterly cold for Sussex,
but as I emerged from the wood and gazed down over The Priory a lazy, northerly sent the temperature way down further still, to well below my boots. (In Yorkshire an icy, cut to the bone wind is called a Lazy Wind. Too lazy to go round you, it passes straight through).
There was precious little warmth from bright sun above Margaret’s fields.
In the gardens, the snow wasn’t as deep as I’d hoped for nor the trees as smothered. But it was exciting to see the place under a decent mantle again; with gusts of wind whipping up flurries to quickly bury footprints.
Unsurprisingly, the east pond was frozen;
icicles clung from greenhouse guttering;
and naked oak branches were picked out beautifully by white dusting;
their undersides lit up by reflection from the snow.
I set out on a well trod, anti-clockwise circle of the grounds,
and crossed the footbridge for a good view of the house. I wondered momentarily whether the ice was thick enough for me to walk across … but nah. I wasn’t feeling quite brave nor foolish enough to try.
As I stood focusing my camera on some pollarded willow still in need of pollarding, a mandarin duck shot out noisily from under the bridge beneath my feet. Being of a jumpy disposition, I jumped (and possibly squealed) and only just avoided slipping forward and testing my walking on ice quandary.
Across the meadow now, with a few sorry-looking daffodils poking through into the sunlight.
I crossed the second footbridge in the footsteps of a couple of foxes who hadn’t bothered to skirt the vegetable beds. Lazy foxes, like the wind. No matter, garlic and onions have yet to emerge.
And so to the west pond with Despondent upended on the bank. She’s lain there since a house-guest recently paddled out for an adventure. He was underwhelmed by the experience, I think, and even more so after needing a hand from a forelock-tugging-gardener to regain the shore.
February Gold narcissi have let me down again. Were they renamed March Gold, I need never be disappointed. But here February Gold always flower in March. Or rather, once – once! – in nine years have they done what they promise and started their show in the very last days of the second month. March Gold would be a truer name or Very Occasionally But Let’s Be Honest Hardly Ever Really February Gold.
I’ve pruned the apple trees already, so that happy task is done for another year – but it irks me that I missed the little twig top right. Why is the inconsequential so stupidly annoying? Or is that the stupid are annoyed by the inconsequential?
From the trees, I hang five bird-feeders. I waited for birds to come and feed despite my proximity. As I could no longer feel my feet, I couldn’t wait long but then one fidgety long-tailed tit did so – before he and his gang bobbed away in that curious, charming, undulating flight.
Up by the greenhouse is a sixth feeder. My caged robin has fattened up handsomely and I really ought to fish him out and stick him under a pie crust. But he will be sweeter yet after another few days.
With little gardening to be done on a day like today, Jim and I set out southwards, uphill to Margaret’s farm.
We passed a small flock of her sheep … whose interest in us evaporated at our obvious deficiency in hay or sheep-nuts.
More sheep watched us hopefully as we approached the yard, on our way to coffee in the Aga-warm kitchen.
But first we loitered by the barn where, snug under cover, stood Margaret’s new ram. He’s an imposing, fearless chap and I like him enormously. He’s wearing a raddle – a huge crayon, if you like, that indelibly paints the back of any ewe he has attended to. He’s probably rather proud of leaving his mark of love on the flock. The flock, I imagine, less so.
Margaret’s animals almost always bear fine, resolute names. There were her rams Digby and the mighty Cyril. Her bulls – Lawyer, Picton, Envoy, Emblem and Wellington. (I’ll gloss over poor Petal’s name. Bless him.). So what do you think the new ram might be called?
Beowulf would suit.
As would Thor, Maximus, Horatio or Achilles.
Athelstan?
But you’d be wrong.
Hi, Kevin.
Those poor little snowdrops and narcissi braving the cold!
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The narcissi are looking glorious now, Louise. They shrugged off the snow effortlessly. Dave
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I have never heard that term “Lazy Wind” before – I might borrow that! Beautiful snow images and it sounds as cold as it looked! Mercy what a winter. c
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Hi Cecilia, thanks and I’m not sure where I first came across the lazy wind phrase – James Herriott possibly? Feel free to borrow please, it ought to be more common parlance anyhow.
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Ok – that poor Robin – his ears must be burning with all those truly awful comments about putting him in a pie – mind you perhaps some burning around his ears might shave off a few feathers & let him escape. He looks too fat to escape his little prison but for the sake of anyone who might think he is actually trapped in there – I trust like most – he’s a skinny in a heavily fluffed out feather coat & extricated himself once he’d stuffed himself yet again?? Or has he decided to stay put & wait for you to stick some lard on the bars to release him while he eats it as well instead of squeezing through?
Whichever- think that’s enough of my weird pain med humour for now! I’m off to see what size our Belfast robins get to for comparison LOL!
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Now I feel bad. If not for the robin – which incidentally was succulent and tasty – but for you thinking so long and hard about him. Belfast robins? I’m off to track one down, D
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Great photos and blog post. We’ve just had a mini ‘Beast from the East’ as it returned for 1 night only and the small town on the east coast was covered in a blanket of snow again. Hopefully some warmer weather is on the way.
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Thanks, Dean. Very cold here again. I didn’t shift far from the wood burner yesterday. Bit of a marked change from the springlike days of last week, eh? D
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Regarding the ram: Let’s honor todays heroes! My vote: Snowden!
Marcie
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Good choice. I’ll pass your nomination on to Margaret, Marcie though actually I’ve grown rather fond of Kevin. D
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We have had so much snow this winter. It has been a lovely change from just wet….
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Hi PL, back to wet here now and only that one brief interlude of snow for Sussex. You’ve had much more snow over in the west – of which I’m jealous. D
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Wow how beautiful, some days I want nothing more than for the snow to melt here and then I look around and try to remember the beauty of every season… I still look forward to planting again soon though! 🙂
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British seasons are pretty special, I think. A little bit of everything but not too much of any – cept rain of course. D
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I thought it was Blackbirds that went into the pie?
It is unusual for a ram to be ‘working’ at this time of year. There is I believe only One breed of sheep that breeds all year round. What breed is Margarets?
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Robin pie is more of a Sussex speciality, Brian. I’ve consulted Margaret re your raddle-season and breed questions – I’ll get back to you. D
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Here’s Margaret’s reply, Brian – “The one breed of sheep that your correspondent refers to is a Poll Dorset and that is what Kevin is. However, although I have kept his harness on, this is so I can grab him as necessary. I think he has finished working now although unfortunately, it doesn’t look as though he has served all the ewes. I shall know more on Thursday when somebody is coming to crutch out the ewes (shave around their bums), very undignified but very necessary so that I can see what is going on and keep the ewes clean when they have lambed.”
Now you know! D
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Thank you David, I thought the Poll Dorset was the only breed that would breed all year, I just didn’t think that was the breed Margaret kept. Poor old Kevin must wish he could return to Dorset!!
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Thanks for the account of your snowy walk. We had a lot of snow down here in Devon and the thing that stood out for me was how dry it was when it fell, so that it blew around very easily in the strong winds and of course drifted, blocking roads etc.
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It must have looked amazing, Philip. We didn’t have enough for any drifting as such but tbh I was grateful for the little we got after waiting so long. D
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Very enjoyable read, thanks!
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Kind of you to say so. D
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Amazing images David! It looks like the snow really was very widespread, as it hit here much harder than was expected.
The Priory looks stunning in the snow. It must be a treat, especially as it rarely happens. I especially like seeing the footprints of animals through the snow.
Also, I very much like the name of Margaret’s new ram! 🙂
I hope you’re doing well, David.
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Hi Kevin, thanks and I’m really glad you like the post. Your namesake is a glorious beast – as I’m sure you are.
I’m doing very well, thanks but waiting impatiently for the gardening OFF.
David
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Thanks for the beautiful images and, as ever, your most amusing thoughts. This weather has been hard on the plants and our wages! At least I’ve had time to fit the new cable to the mower…
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Hi Peter, and thanks for your thanks (?). Both my partner and I have lost so many days recently, if not to snow then to heavy, heavy rain. Why, I’m even looking forward to mowing again. Sounds like your raring to go. D
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Wonderful pictures and commentary! Thank you
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You’re very welcome 🙂
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Hello, Kevin. And thanks for the intro, David. Stay warm!
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Blimey, Chicu – you don’t hang about!
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What beautiful pictures. There was a wonderful light in Sussex on Wednesday (I am a fellow Sussex resident) and you have captured it perfectly.
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Thank you. I couldn’t not go to The Priory on Wednesday. As you say the light was so perfect and snow is so rare here that I had to see it on a favourite place. D
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This is snow at its prettiest don’t you think? Thankfully we have been spared the awful slushy stage this time around as it thawed really quickly. We are back to rain now (how very unusual, not) and all I can do is wait and see how much damage has been done.
I once had a boss called Kevin. This one is a dead ringer.
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Gosh. Your Kevin didn’t war a raddle too?
And yes, it is nice when snow has the good grace to plump down, look beautiful and then quickly disappear. Old snow is no friend to anyone and besides, I needed it to go so I could work!
D
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A lovely post, David, capturing well the garden and grounds after the snow and at the time of year.
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Thank you, Cynthia. D
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Beautiful wintry scenes, Dave.
February Gold NEVER would bloom before early April here due to snow, but still, it is the first to bloom and for that, I am grateful.
I think Maximus would be a (hopefully) prophetic name for a ram! 😉
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Ah, thanks Eliza. To know that I am not alone with my lazy Feb Gold is a comfort. I will quit my moaning and be grateful that mine appear a month before yours. (If I had a ram, I think we both know his name). D
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I have experienced 70 years of winter snows in NEW England & never tire of the beauty of scenes like the ones you’ve shown us here (by March it DOES get weary, I must say!). And your gardens enhance the appreciation. (It’s good you didn’t test the ice though…minus 3.5 C is too warm. We are safer with our -10 to -30C. here in winter!)
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Ouch. -30C is quite hardcore. -2.5C must seem balmy to you. I saw that the canals in Amsterdam have frozen over and people have taken to the ice on skates – quite wonderful and Bruegelesque. D
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Amazing pics, what a beautiful place.
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Thanks Gareth and yes, I think it is too.
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Some lovely photos here – thank you for sharing them! My absolute favourite has to be the one of the underside of the oak’s branches – the reflected light is just stunning.
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It’s a stunning tree anyhow but yes, underlit like that it was quite remarkable. D
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Lovely walk. Thank you. The February Gold narcissi, when viewed all together rather than individually, remind me of a clutter of spiders going along.
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Well, yes – now that you mention it. I was so grumbly at the lack of flower, I hadn’t noticed. D
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Beautiful photos! I hope that the robin pie turns out as well as it sounds :s 😉
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Plump robin pie is a favourite.
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😄
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Wonderful post. I felt like I was strolling along with you. Stay warm!
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Thank you. Lots of stopping whilst strolling to muck about with my camera. You would have got quite cold. D
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So many beautiful photos, but the long-tailed willow tit will always win. The oaks were magnificent too. And Kevin.
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I never tire from watching the long tails and am a bit blessed that there are so many of them at The Priory. They don’t half get through the food!
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I know! Fatballs for fatballs. Or pudding bags, which is my favourite local name for them, after flying teaspoons.
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Ha! Three great names – but I shall plump for pudding bags.
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I love reading our Blog, David. The Priory garden looks as beautiful as ever, even under the snow. As for Kevin the Sheep, well that did make me laugh out loud. He must be friends with dear ol’ Shaun!
Regards
Lorna x
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Thanks Lorna. Well, I guess it is a bit of a contrast to when you visited! Dx
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Yes, a complete contrast indeed!
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Wonderfull pictures !! That ram looks like a Romeo to me (haha)
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Thanks Gwennie. Romeo is a good name for a ram. I shall advise Margaret. D
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