snow

Moving Day Snowed Off!

The snow that was supposed to stop yesterday (according to the weather oracle) didn’t. There was a good six inches this morning – the slushy, slippery stuff that causes havoc on untreated roads. And havoc there was. The removal trucks did try valiantly to reach us this morning, but found themselves caught up for two hours in traffic jams of accidents and breakdowns on the highway down the Severn Gorge. And even if they had managed to reach Wenlock, the bottom of our street was blocked by two huge lorries that strangely, and within minutes of each other, had broken down; there was no way out to Broseley.

Now at lunch time, it’s raining not snowing; the road is almost slush-free and the broken down trucks vanished. Graham, after reinstating the internet connection, has retreated for a nap (on the mattress on the bedroom floor), having been awake half the night, and I’m pondering on what bare minimum needs to be unpacked for an unanticipated camp-over. (My last ditch packing up session early this morning saw stuff popped wildly into nearest bags and boxes, thus leaving some items untrackable). The movers are rescheduling jobs and plan to be with us tomorrow. Meanwhile, we have the trusty wood burner and a stash of logs. Our lovely neighbour, Josie has brought us chocolate cake and a bottle of wine. And later we may well treat ourselves to dinner out at one of Wenlock’s hostelries.

So as they say: tomorrow is another day. And hopefully the snow will soon be on its way out.

Wenlock Weather Update

Today we have blue skies and brilliant sunshine and last night’s snow has been rapidly melting. But the big question is: will enough of it melt before it starts freezing again, turning byways into ice rinks.

This morning, though, it was all very picturesque over the garden fence and about the town. The MacMoos were my first port of call for a photo-op. There were only two in the Cutlins meadow today. They do come and go. And what imperturbable souls they are, seemingly un-moo-ved by their snowy world so long as there’s plenty of hay.

Square Up #25

Snowed Up Teasels–AGAIN!

Fresh from the garden an hour ago, and more snow to come. Nor are we alone. Temperatures in the northern hemisphere, and especially parts of North America have been plunging to record lows due to a shift of the polar vortex, the icy wind system that usually spends winter over the Arctic. It’s even been snowing in the Algerian Sahara – the fourth time this has happened in 42 years. My computer tells me it’s zero degrees celsius here in the UK, positively tropical compared to Chicago’s –26C with an added wind-chill factor of –53C. Stay warm, everyone.

Square Up #24

Another Snow Day In Wenlock

By this morning most of yesterday’s snow had washed away in the rain. But then back it came at midday, leaving a layer deep enough for some happy sledging on Windmill Hill and giant snowball rolling in the Linden Field. Wenlock dogs were fizzing with delight and even the grown-up humans were having a good play. Nothing like a snowball fight if you’re well wrapped up. And it was bitterly cold this afternoon even as the trees began to drip and drip.

I had only popped out in the garden to photograph the crab apples, but one thing led to another, and soon I was heading for the Linden Walk, and then across the old railway line towards the Priory ruins. And while I was there I thought I’d carry on and have a wander round the Church Green, and see if I could get a photo of the Prior’s House from over the graveyard wall.

Time passed as I stood to watch the Highland Cattle tuck into their silage. So did lunch-time. He who binds books and lives in my house was very glad when I finally did turn up to make some soup. I made no excuses for absence without explanation. Nor did he expect any. He knows as well as I do: you have to make the most of snow-days. The only thing lacking was a spot of sunshine to brighten up the place. Now as I write this, a frost has set in for the night, and there’s a fat moon shining over the Linden Field.

Of Winter Past ~ Windmill Hill 2017

Some forecasters are telling us to look out, bad weather is on the way, and especially come UK election day on the 12th December. I’m hoping they’ll be wrong. Meanwhile, and in response to Tina’s cold theme @Lens-Artists, here are views around Wenlock taken in early December two years ago. It had its scenic moments, but caught us out too. We’ve grown rather used to mild, wet winters. The header photo was taken in a bit of blizzard, as was the next photo on the Linden Walk.

But there were ‘Christmas Card’ vistas too – and especially out in the Wenlock Priory parkland:

And all was very quiet around the town:

And along the old railway line:

Lens-Artists: Cold

Sun And Ice In Black And White

Much like Cee’s current ‘black and white’ challenge, this blog is blowing all hot and cold this week – from Kenya’s tropics in the past two posts to a Shropshire winter in this one. These photos are from LAST winter I hasten to add. And much as I had the most enormous fun out in the snow with my camera, I do not need a repeat performance yet. (Please and thank you in advance, Weather Gods). Anyway, here are some sunshiney snow-scenes from my favourite places around Much Wenlock: Windmill Hill, the old railway line, and the Linden Walk.

Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge: Hot or Cold

Watching Snow Blow ~ The Bedroom Movie

March first and the Snow Dragons of Winter were unleashed over Shropshire – huffing and puffing great gusts of iciness over the land. Oddly, there wasn’t a heavy fall, and the flakes were very dry, but they did a lot of travelling. In the night the dragons racketed and roared over the roof and blew all the field snow into heaps behind the house.

This movie of blowing snow was shot from the bedroom window yesterday afternoon. Today we have slushy roads and biting winds. Who let Siberia in?

Ice Magic

The continuing freezing temperatures in the Britain made me think of this photo, taken back in December. Now I have cropped and enlarged it, it looks like a Christmas Tree bauble, a piece of intricate glass. I also imagine I see a cloaked figure, a woman I think, fleeing for her life on a galloping horse. Or else it looks like a Victorian woman’s reticule, soft velvet with a drawstring closure. Or perhaps one of Scrooge’s stash of money bags.

How it formed like this, suspended from a coat thread caught on a barbed wire fence up at the allotment, I have no idea. It just goes to show that we do not need to know the hows and whyfors and whats of something to see its wonder. When I found it, I thought the elements had left me a gift.

Daily Post: out of this world

Looking Back At Wenlock’s Snow Paths In Black & White

It’s snowing again today, but hopefully without conviction: just enough to dust the field behind the house, and coat the roofs of the garden sheds. Otherwise, despite the winteryness, there are more signs of spring everywhere – winter pansies in full fettle in Wenlock gardens, allium leaves pushing up through the soil, buds on the flowering currant, more hellebores emerging, snowdrops and catkins in the hedgerows.

The December snow days were very beautiful, but best remembered now in photos. Some of the following shots were taken in monochrome, and some I’ve converted. The header is a conversion, and it’s only in this format that you can see that the sun is melting the snow from the branches in a mini snowstorm. It isn’t dust on the lens. The photos were taken in and around the Linden Field and I’m posting them in response to Cee’s Thursday black and white challenge: out doors – walks and roads. Follow the link below to join in.

Cee’s Black & White Photo Challenge – walks and roads

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The Changing Seasons ~ Snow and Marigolds In January

Well, it’s hardly been gardening weather – far too wet; not at all like our good old winters where on fine, cold days you could pile on the gardening togs, balaclava and all, get out your trusty spade and dig the allotment, naturally always standing on a plank as you went so as not to compact the soil.

I actually like digging, though I’m trying to wean myself off the practice (as many of you who come here will know) opting instead for the no-dig approach which relies on raised beds and the annual autumn application of compost. Around 2 inches worth says no-dig guru, Charles Dowding, and only on the surface (he has lots of useful videos on You Tube and grows parsnips and carrots the size of cruise missiles).

The only problem with this approach is you need loads and loads of compost, and despite my having a dozen assorted piles, bins and bays of decomposing garden waste, I never seem to have enough garden-ready stuff at the right time. I also completely forgot about the autumn application as I had left my brain in the olive groves of Kalamata back in October. Drat! However, it did return briefly in December to remember to gather leaves for making leaf mould, and it’s probably not too late to go out and gather more if only it weren’t raining, and Wenlock’s likely byways a sea of slithery Silurian mud.

We also had more snow in January, but not the glistening, Snow-Queeny landscapes of December, but the dank and dreary sort followed by more rain, which soon washed it away. Except that when I went up to the allotment on Monday I was surprised to find heaps of it lurking along the sides of the polytunnels. Oh no! I remembered the old wives’ tale which says that when snow remains we can expect further falls to carry it away. Hmph. A curse on old wives for being so doomy. We’ve done snow. Now we want spring!

But then the odd thing about that is, along with our snow and frost we have also had spring, or at least if the pot marigolds are anything to go by. These are self-seeded annuals that grow hither and thither around my plot, and not even being buried for a week under December’s snow drifts stopped them flowering. When the snow receded they emerged full-on, like floral headlights, though their stems were somewhat misshapen from the burying. As anyone would be.

Anyway, here are some views of the allotment taken on Monday. I’m including some of my compost heaps – not a pretty sight, I know, but they bring joy to this gardener’s heart. Also of my parsnips, which as you will see were exceedingly hard to extract from the mud. They are also nowhere near the size of Charles Dowding’s cruise missiles, nor as perfectly formed. But then as the shed-building man who lives in my house says, who needs parsnips that big? A vaguely existentialist enquiry to which I find there is no answer…

The Changing Seasons

For those who haven’t caught up yet, Su Leslie is now our very excellent host for The Changing Seasons monthly challenge, having taken over from our former very excellent host Max at Cardinal Guzman (btw fantastic ski-ing video at Max’s blog). We have thus shifted across the globe from Norway to New Zealand. Please pop over to Su’s place to see her and other bloggers’ monthly round up from their corners of the world. And please join in. The ‘rules’ are simple.

Tish Farrell

Writer on the Edge