A beautiful dog walk under the nearly-full Wolf Moon
Hello! Can we bear to look at last week’s comments? I think now that the weather has turned to stormy and wet it may be a bit tricky looking at last week’s crystal clear skies, frosts and ice…but we shall forge on.
This is our weekly post in which we track the seasons week by week. I curate a compilation of your previous week’s comments and we sometimes refer to this as a seasonal poem, because we think we’re fancy. Then I write about a few things I have spotted, done, eaten etc… that felt particularly ‘this week’, and then you leave your comments and we do it all again.
A little heads up that I am going to experiment with a slightly different formula for February, March and April, still creating a weekly place where we can gather our thoughts and observations, but with a monthly instead of a weekly ‘poem’. I will explain more next week. The reason is that I am deep into almanac-writing season and although I know you love these posts, I also reckon you might really like me to write The Almanac 2025, and time is ticking by.
Speaking of which…Week what?? 4 already? Shocker. Here’s your Week 4:
Hot water bottles in bed
A vat of hot porridge in the morning, topped with Seville marmalade and nutmeg
The crunch of frozen ground underfoot
Feeling tiny and yet connected to the vast constellations and visible planets overhead in the icy sparkling sky
My boy finally returning to university after four generous weeks, and being left with a him-shaped hole everywhere I look
The comfort of soup making
Pruning roses and the wisteria
The close approach of the half moon and Jupiter at night, and spotting Venus the next dawn shining over a snow-bedecked city from my roof terrace
The night sky in rural Norfolk studded with stars like I’ve not seen for many years
Primulas at the garden centre
The starlings making waves in the sky
Scraping the ice off the car in the mornings ready to brave the icy lanes to work
Sticking my tongue out in the falling snow
-3 degrees and so cold that everything echoed a little
My tax return looming
The first pound-a-bunch British daffodils in the shops
A beach fire at low tide on a bright sunny freezing day...sun, sea, fire, ice and the moon
Beautiful skies, all pink, gold and blue on the way to work and Jupiter hanging below the moon on the way back
Cosy fires and mending - patching my son's trousers with his dad's overall cut offs, and darning socks
Beautiful curls of steam pouring from houses on the sunlit morning hills on the school run
Dry winter skin - lots of lotion and lip balm
A flock of Redwings searching for food amongst the leaves in the park
A day of strikes and hunkering down in the house - watching the busy bird feeders, candles lit, books & blankets all round - peak January!
Not having to clean mud off my dog’s paws when he comes in from the garden because the lawn is frozen
The lovely symphony of winter sounds in the woods: wind crisping through the leaves, birds chirping, my feet crunching along the trail
On the search for Seville oranges
Even in suburban Bristol I could see the Pleiades with the naked eye
The walk back from the school run, one big set of footprints, and the smaller, more frantic course of a 5 year old who can’t believe his luck at a fresh fall
Heavy duvet back on
The crescent moon outside my window as I lay sick in bed, indulging in lots of ginger, lemon and honey tea
Laughing and shrieking down the hill on a sledge, kicking up powdery snow.
Making grapefruit curd with a couple of delicious ruby reds
Sigh! What a week that was. Just dreamy. I think Week 3 might have been ideal January, and I’m not sure this week will match up. But I am always amazed at the beauty you all manage to find in everything, so we will wait and see (I don’t mind you grumbling either though, for clarity: it’s all good and real, and it makes the poem funnier when there’s a bit of grim reality among the beauty).
Here’s my Week 4:
Candlemas Corner
I was talking in my January catch up about the idea of clinging on to winter, not wishing it to rush by, and the idea of using the alternative tradition of leaving your Christmas decorations up until Candlemas on the 2nd February as a kind of tool to help that, though I’m not sure if I, personally, could bear it. Well anyway I was walking in the neighbourhood the other night and noticed a corner where FIVE houses all still have their lights up outside. Is this some kind of Candlemas pact? Are they all trying to be the last? Have they acknowledged their game of Christmas-lights chicken or do they all avoid each other’s eyes? A twinkly mystery. Anyway, Christmas lives on, around the corner from me.
Haggis, neeps and tatties
By the time you read this note these will be transformed into steaming plates of haggis, neeps and tatties, and I may even have read out a poem or two to my reluctant family. They love it really… But at the time of writing here they are, in their raw form, diamonds in the rough.
We shall rebuild
Storm damage in the park.
A quick heads up….Coming up on soon Lia’s Living Almanac I have been working on an Imbolc special, free for all readers, plus a curated playlist for paid subscribers. It will drop on 31st January, ready for Imbolc/St Brigid’s Day. I think this is my favourite playlist yet, lots of traditional Irish music and a few other bits and bobs, plus plenty of harp action, which is never a terrible thing, so if you like the sound of that, do subscribe. I’m going to write a little guide to the moment and give some ideas for marking this turning of the season, so you might want to put aside a little moment or two for that whether you are a paid subscriber or not.
That’s it from me! Please leave your comments below: what have you done/seen/eaten/cooked this week that has felt particularly ‘this week’?
My three things for this week are; Storms - huddled by the fire listening to the wind, a little scared of the damage it might be causing but luckily only a few branches and a greenhouse door destroyed. Snowdrops - lovely little flowers showing through along our drive bringing anticipation for the coming spring and The Moon - shining so brightly with an amazing halo surrounding it.
Last night was the first evening that I was aware of the birds singing and it felt almost springlike and as I walked in the churchyard the snowdrops were starting to emerge