We’re in my winter now

As much as Summer sun feels kind on my skin, I love this roll in to winter. The trees seem to turn with the change of the wind and suddenly we’re hearing of snow. Apparently astronomical winter begins on the 21st December for the Northern Hemisphere, but to me it begins long before that. We’re in my winter now.

Last weekend the first English snow fell on Lake District. That is winter.

These hawthorn berries are the last colour amongst the woods on my Parent’s land. Did you know they’re edible? I’m aiming to catch them earlier next year and make something with them before they turn. For now though, the floor beneath is carpeted in the mulch of autumn’s left over leaves and the trees have turned to shadowy skeletons.

I’m already seeing much less of the cheeky squirrel that likes to race around the garden walls. In summer I’d spot him on his daily dash to forage and stow food but with this temperature drop, he’ll be spending more time in his drey to conserve energy. Despite the number of times I’ve referred to him as a ‘he’ I have no idea whether that’s right or not. Does anyone know how to tell grey squirrels apart from a distance?

The pheasant shooting season is well underway – the last game bird season to open. That means Fynn is working again, coming home excited, tired and absolutely covered in mud. He might be achey the next morning but he whole heartedly loves serving my Dad on a shoot. In the past I’ve caught him walking past the empty gun bag hung up in the utility room, pausing to sniff it in a little sentimental moment. He’s such a soft dog. His cuteness melts me at times.

The fire is being lit every day now, much to Fynn’s delight and the wood stack is going down rapidly. I’m finding myself reaching for a blanket to wrap up in at nights and hot chocolate has crept in to the bed time routine. All these things add up to the W word to me. When does winter begin for you?