Minus five overnight and a hard frost this morning.
I can forgive Normandy everything on a morning like this. I’ve just got back from walking the dog in this first hard frost of the winter, and it was so gobsmackingly beautiful it took my breath away.
The whole countryside looks like it’s been dipped in sugar: every catkin, every withered leaf, every blade of grass (the photo at left was taken just after dawn). The fields were peppered with crows, waiting for the sun to thaw the maize left over from the harvest. My neighbour’s willows were reflected in his lake, preternaturally blue and lined with ochre bullrushes. A solitary heron was hunting by the stream, and the dog and I seemed to be the only other creatures on the surface of the earth as the sun came blazing out and turned the whole world into a mirror.
I didn’t see another person or sign of life, nor heard a sound until I reached my gate again after an hour of walking, when a solitary tractor appeared on the brow of the hill. Not even a single cow was in any of the fields – this temperature drop was forecast, and the farmers have taken the cattle in.
The dog is always happiest on a frosty walk, but now that he is 12, I put a coat on him when it’s below freezing. He looks very sweet in his scarlet Land’s End fleece, which (other than the colour) matches my Squall Parka. No more perfect coat for dog-walking was ever invented, btw, with its fleece-lined handwarmer pockets and hood, drawstring waist, and screaming daffodil yellow colour that I hope will prevent me being mashed by a tractor. Luckily, no-one could tell this morning that I still had my polkadot pjs on under my layers of fleece.
Yesterday we had the 1000-litre fuel oil delivery, just in time for this freeze, so we actually woke up to a warm house, ye gods. Until now, the mornings have been a rush to get into my down dressing gown (Lands’ End again – I should take out shares) and Uggs and get down to the living room to bang on the paraffin heater.
If we’re frugal with the heating, running it for just two hours a day, the oil lasts a year, at a cost of just short of 1,000 euros (and right now, this office is 17.5 degrees, which seems to me stiflingly hot – about 16 would suit me better, as we’re just not used to being this warm). The wood will be, what – another 1,000 euros this year? For six cords. Plus maybe three lots of paraffin, and say the same of butane, and about 200 euros a month for electricity. No wonder we’re broke when it costs over four grand just to heat the house to a moderate temperature, LOL, though of course that lot also includes cooking gas, hot water and lighting.
Oh well, enough whingeing. Lunch is in the slow cooker (rabbit and lentil casserole), the birds have had their second feed of the day and I’ve put vegetable scraps out for the deer, so I’m now off for a bath before we get the wood in.
Wrap up warm, people.