Snow days.

First Mate’s log, Morningstar, SnowDay 3. 14.05 hours.    A Gift of Days

The blizzard has been gently raging for a few hours now, with no sign of abating to the promised rain or sleet. What started as snow grains rapidly changed to smallish flakes, settling on everything they landed on.

There is power in small things which stick together.

We had already had snow a couple of days ago. Some snow had come and settled over the night; all was icy, but once traffic had started to flow – a couple of tractors, some 4-wheel drive vehicles – we ventured out.  School – unlike most on the island – was still open for business, much to our surprise, so we had to brave the chaos. The normal twelve minute journey took forty...  A few hours in school, then the snow came again, more thickly this time, so, finally, we were all told we could leave: and so... back home again.

School snow day! Fun!

Half an hour later, the sun came out, we felt guilty, yet the temperatures started to drop quickly and soon the ground surfaces were treacherously slippy.

That night, a three quarter moon silvered the frozen snow. The road was like glass. A blissful silence, in the absence of traffic of any kind, hung over the fields. And no wind at all, the air seeming to hold its breath before the storm.

That was the first SnowDay, albeit only a half. By evening, The Authorities had decided that school should not open the next day for fear of ice. Good to know in advance. I put an extra duvet on the bed....

Come the morning, Snow Day 2 dawned crisp, cold (-2 degrees) and sunny. We barely needed the heating as the sun flooded through the windows, shiny sparkling on white gorgeousness.  It all looked wonderful: yet the wind roared fierce, cutting up the cliffs and across the fields. The road cleared so we chill-walked the lanes, still slippy in the shadows, banks and hedges covered in icy drifts.  The wind chill factor must have been minus ten degrees, or more.

Robins, puffed up to keep warm, hopped around the bird feeder. One sat on the trellis against the wall, soaking up the sun’s rays, quite motionless while others scuttered around the tree above it.

Inbetween, I checked through our Christmas cards and emails, making sure that I had caught up with friends and acquaintances scattered round the globe. Best of all, I was able to reconnect with our housekeeper in Kenya: we had not heard from her since we moved house, so I was fearful that we had lost touch altogether, but I managed to get a text through to her and received a quick reply. A wonderful relief.

It was a great day for washing: the wind blew the moisture out as rapidly as if it had been the summer, but by late afternoon the still-damp jeans had turned as stiff as boards.

And my dear neighbour Nicky came round for tea: scones and laughter, much chat, great fun. So great to have this time to be able to spontaneously extend hospitality. (I am trying to make #40Acts of kindness a permanent lifestyle choice...What Would Jesus Do?)

The day seemed gloriously long: yet a blizzard was forecast, so once again, The Authorities decreed that School Would Be Closed.  Not complaining...

And so it came. Later than expected: we had thought it would blow throughout the night, but there was, initially, no fresh snow. Then it started...The wind blows the snow in huge gusts, eddying up and around the house, whirling dervishes brandishing icicle swords, swooping at bushes, cutting through pockets of shelter...

I have walked out to the bird feeder several times, replenishing food, brushing off snow from the remaining seeds and topping up the bird bath with warm water so the birds can drink. All other sources of water are frozen.

Each time, I step in pristine snow: my footprints have been obliterated, as if I had stayed smug inside all morning with no care for wildlife. Blackbirds have been skulking this morning, hesitantly hopping through the underbrush. The snow bears witness to occasional panicky rushing in circles out into the snow and back. One female cautiously hops onto a branch, observing the bird feeder fearfully before finally plucking up courage to leap down and snatch a crumb.

The leaden skies bear no hope of reprieve. The snow drifts on endlessly.

A few vehicles rush by, skidding through slush. Otherwise all is quiet save for the howling of the wind, fruitlessly seeking crannies in corners through which it can invade. We are warm inside. The dog huddles next to the radiator.

These few days have been a welcome reprieve. ‘Normal’ life feels full: good, but full. We go from one project to another, from this meeting to that, sharing life, constantly occupied.

These days are for stopping. For catching up with neglected tasks. For reconnecting, by email and in person, with friends. There has been time to have tea with a neighbour; a phone chat with a distant friend; writing emails and letters;  organising gifts.  Sorting stuff. Clearing out. Resting.

A gift of time indeed.

First Mate’s log, Morningstar, SnowDay 3. 16.05 hours.

The snow has abated, bringing rain in its place. We rushed outside as the snow eased to build a snowman: two adults, laughing like hyenas, rolling loose snow balls to form a huge snow bear. Pickle, reluctantly joining us, grabbed the Spirit of Snow and tore round the garden, weaving in circles in and out of bushes and across the lawn. Too much of a tempting target for snowballs...she waited reproachfully by the front door for us to finish adding the potatoes for eyes and a rather short nosy carrot.

Back safely inside. Rubbed down, warm and dry. Fire lit. Light beginning to fade. Snow starting to melt. Another gentle, relaxed evening....

First Mate, Signing out.

February fun

February had scarcely begun before the days seemed longer, the mornings kinder, the evenings lighter... still a long way to go, but daffodils were beginning to burst out on the banks and snowdrops dazzled among daisies.

I cycled to school, just a little. Well, several days a week, anyway.  Then it turned cold, which coincided with parents' evenings and so driving became an acceptable and face-saving option.

We longed eagerly for snow, but, despite our proximity to France which received dozens of centimetres of the beautiful white stuff, we were disappointed. A few sleet and hail showers, a  little fog and quite a lot of wind was all that the February Freeze had for us.

Oh well. We'd had more than enough moisture in January. The front lawn was still suffering the effects of skidding cars, with pools of water lying in ruts in the grass. It will all grow back. Eventually.

My parents' evenings were a delight, as always. I was amused to discover that one of the parents had been to school in Nairobi for a short time, born in the Middle East: very interested in what Cat and Jonny were doing in similar places...I love discovering connections and relationships. That aside, it is always good to exchange information about the children, finding that, in general, we were all on the same page in setting careful boundaries in order to set a firm foundation for the future.

Tiring, though. Interspersed were a couple of evenings of Sozo training: fascinating to see what a simple healing process it can be - looking forward to finding out more.

Then, one particular joy was being invited to our neighbours on each side and making contact again with Pat and Peter opposite.  Catherine was celebrating her 40th, mostly with nursing friends and family. Her children are so delightful that it never matters when they kick the football over, though their parents are embarrassed about it. We certainly don't mind.  The evening was great fun, particularly as there were two school parents there who were pleased to see us, and it was also easy to discover various Guernsey connections with various friends and relatives. Then Nicky and Richard had also invited us to supper a couple of days later...

After that: off to France for half term in The Beast.  Details on TravelsWithPickle as usual.

The temperatures started to drop as the week progressed. By the time we were back at school on the last Monday of the month, we were treated to some snow flurries, with more coming in overnight. Woohoo!

Tuesday morning was snowy, clear and icy. I waited expectantly for the news that school would be closed... except that it wasn't!  All the state schools on the island were closed and it was only ours, and the private girls' school, which remained open. Drat.

Rachel, a, colleague living nearby gave me a lift and we crept in together. Everyone was VERY cautions so our drive took 40 minutes instead of the usual 12. Better safe than sorry.

Once at school, I had 14 excited children, an extended breaktime out in the snow - both settled snow in the sunshine and then, half an hour later, thickly falling snowflakes - and a staffroom of disgruntled teachers, all with skidding car or 'having to walk in' stories.

The snow eased off... then started again... so thickly that Rachel and I started to wonder how we would get home. We live the greatest distance away from school and walking home wasn't an option... eventually we got permission to leave early, so crept home again.

An hour later, the sun came out. #feelingguilty  #colleaguesandchildrenstillatschool.  Oh dear.
An hour after that, a heavy blizzard came in. We'd timed it to coincide with a dog walk: we all returned encrusted in snow. Pickle was NOT amused. We thought we'd have a long 'drying off' job to do on her, but as soon as she approached the front door she gave a vigorous shake and the snow flew off. Didn't know she was so sensible....

So the snow settled, ready for the last day of February. Temperatures below zero, so freezing on to the ground. Tomorrow is another day....

Evidence of a trespassing rabbit, having a good look around...

January: jeepers!

Not reached the end of January yet, but, well, jeepers!  Today is YET AGAIN WET, MUDDY, FOGGY and MISERABLE.

Dog walking has, at best, been a dodge between showers or a walk in the rain. Access to the cliff path has become impossible without gumboots, so we have been exploring the lanes behind the house.

We’ve managed not to get lost, despite our neighbour referring to the area as The Bermuda Triangle. He has a point, but we are definitely getting a feel for the Wrong Direction now and usually manage some pleasant circular rambles without wandering too far off track. Time, too, to stroll along the seaweed-strewn beaches, left ravaged by the storms. Vast swatches of sand have been washed out by fierce tides, exposing stripes of prehistoric peat or forgotten rocky slipways.

We have had this weather for at least a month now if not longer, interspersed by just a few drier days.

I can’t even say DRY, because they weren’t, really. Some cloud, a little sunshine at times, the days growing imperceptibly longer until now, more than a month after Christmas, Spring does indeed feel less far off than before. Daffodils have been blooming defiantly for some weeks, robins are making their presence known in the garden and, on the way home yesterday, a crowd of sparrows in a stand of bamboo sounded like a flock of weaver birds on their nests.

So, some hope of better weather, then. Today is foggy, but the log burner is lit and glowing, reminding me of Christmas.

We began the month with fierce thankfulness. Cat and Andy had left us the day before but we were SO glad to have had the gift of ten days with them over Christmas.

So we kept telling ourselves that.

Practising gratitude, holding the sorrow of parting in loose fingers.

Keeping busy – I was back at school (only two new initiatives so far this half term, another new one planned for March), Richard preoccupied with various home projects. (More of those later...)

Meeting friends. We hosted on half a dozen occasions; went out to dinner a few nights, catching up; got together for chats over tea. Precious relationships.

Mike and Clare came round to help us cook a special Indian meal, using spices from The Spicery, a mail order subscription spice kit which Cat gave Richard for his birthday... This one was BBQ India.

Dum Aloo

Homemade mango chutney

My signature naan breads.

Laughter and light and warmth in the darkness.

And some lovely moments. Possibly the best, for me, was a story from a friend who teaches some of the boys I had in my class a couple of years ago. The boy suddenly said, in the middle of a Maths lesson, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for Mrs Pollard!” (A good thing – he is glad to have passed his entrance exam and so was able to go on to the secondary part of our school.) Teaching is so strange... we pour ourselves out to the children we teach, year after year, enabling and equipping them to continue to grow and develop. Yet we rarely encounter them again and very, very rarely do we ever know the impact we have had. So many celebrities talk about the teacher who encouraged, challenged or inspired them to greater things, but for most of us, we never know what effect we have had.

On the home front, Richard has been delighted to have, he hopes, solved the problem of mould we have in our bedroom. Morningstar is a lovely warm house, made more so by the wood burner Richard installed shortly after we moved in. As a consequence, it is almost draught-free and so condensation has tended to develop on the window and wall of our north-facing bedroom, resulting in a little black mould which, left unchecked, threatened to spread to the ceiling and back of furniture.

Solution? A continuously running, low noise, efficient, extractor fan in the bathroom and some efficacious chemical to paint on the wall which has removed the mould completely and claims to seriously inhibit its return.

We shall see, but we hope so.

The other ongoing project has been the repair of the garage side door, which blew off in one of the many storms which have blown over our island in the last few weeks. The latch had been rather ‘iffy’ since we had to replace the lock in the summer (the lock had jammed shut, just a few days before we were due to go away) and so a strong gust caught the door one night and ripped it off its hinges.

Clever Richard has repaired the wood, turned the door upside down and is waiting for ‘outside working weather’ to finish re-installing it....

Add to that: fine-tuning our house listing on Airbnb ready for summer guests...

2017: a brief round-up of our year...

On the move...and staying put.

Our year seems to have centred on the word HOME – in various guises. After settling on staying in Guernsey last year, we’ve been busy... settling in. Some decorating, some sorting, not enough decluttering, quite a lot of gardening; more DIY – mostly Richard; making Morningstar into our hereforeverhome.

And yet... ‘Home is where the heart is.’ Our hearts are not only in Guernsey but also very much with family and friends scattered around the world. We can’t be in two places at once, so we have relished opportunities to reconnect, whether locally with good friends, having friends and family to stay, or internationally: Skyping with Cat and Andy, Jonny and Adele and extended family, including Cat and Jonny’s ‘parents-in-law’;  visits from Tanzania, visits to Adele’s parents in Lincoln, dear friends in Shrewsbury and Lancashire...

School has also been an extension of home, though becoming, for Angie, less so: she continues to enjoy the children and their parents, but there have been many, many changes this year, not least the departure of a much-loved headteacher.

...and, of course, much time – three months total, in fact – has been spent in the motorhome visiting France: Brittany in February, the Loire valley at Easter, exploring the South of France in the summer. #justa2hourferryride.  The Dogkennel, as our vehicle is known because Pickle would spend all her time in there if she could, hosted quite a few friends: lunch picnics down at the beach over New Year; groups of family friends camping with us in France; a gathering of 9 of us for supper just before we all caught the ferry back home. It has been wonderful to have the flexibility and opportunity which the motorhome gives us to meet up with so many friends. While away, we have been able to have guests to stay in our house, through AirBnb. Preparing the house certainly ensures that it has an extremely thorough spring clean!

And I reflect: Jesus grew up in a home but, as an adult, had no home to call his own. When he was born, it was among strangers; his early years were spent as a refugee in Egypt. Cat and Andy are living their lives helping refugees and homeless people in Iraq, working with Medair. (Andy works to provide clean water and sanitation; Cat runs the logistics, finances and human resources for the medical teams. Their jobs are hugely demanding: we are in awe of the equanimity with which they face daily challenges.) Adele and Jonny are teaching in an independent school in Arusha, Tanzania: Jonny is loving being back in Africa, especially as they live near our long-time friends Byron and Lisa. In their free time, they volunteer to help train teachers in poorer schools, so that the poorest children can receive a better education. We are grateful for their work.

So, as we look back on this year, as I think about the children’s lives we have all, in our various ways, touched: I think of the future, and what 2018 might bring. What difference will we make this year? For all our efforts are nothing compared to the Gift of Jesus that we remember particularly at Christmas. Grateful for His gift, grateful for His grace.