'Cheer up, cheer up!'

WHEN LUCY MOUSE

reached the bank where Mr and Mrs Nibble lived 

with their three children,

all she could see was snow.

No front doors, no little windows - just snow.

'Oh dear,' she thought. 'My poor friends!' and she called very loudly:

'Cheer up, cheer up! We've come to dig you out!'

Actually we barely had enough snow to reach a mouse's kneecap

so we certainly didn't have to dig anyone out,

but I did have the chance to rescue someone 

with a polystyrene box of provisions.

We had an erroneous frozen goose delivery, five days too early

and nowhere to store it until Christmas Day.

Providentially the company had been unable to meet the demand for geese  

and one of their disappointed customers,

 lived just round the corner.

'HOW VERY VERY 
kind of you to  come and help us,' said Mr Nibble.
'and how very, very good of you
to bring us food.
We're very hungry.
Please come in and share it with us.'

Snow at Blackberry Farm

IT BEGAN TO SNOW

at Blackberry Farm just before tea.

Great, big, white flakes

slowly covered everything.

The animals peeped out to watch.

WHEN ERNEST

Owl looked out in the

middle of the night,

it was still snowing.

He watched for a little while and then went back to bed,

saying to himself:

'It will be very deep in the morning.'

For Il Fratello.
Blackberry Farm Book - 21
by Jane Pilgrim

The Robin

We can hardly keep up with the feeder filling.

And I feel terribly guilty when I see the birds queuing

forlornly at the empty ones.

The robin hops up to the kitchen window and looks in quite accusingly

From Something to Do in December

You will often see the robin this month, 

but that is not the real reason why it is a Christmas bird. 

Until about a hundred years ago, postmen wore red coats, 

and were nicknamed 'Robin', 
so when Christmas cards became popular 
the robin was used as a cheerful symbol of the postman.

Postman Joe from the Blackberry Farm Books.

Blue shadows

Snow lay thick on the fields and the woods 
cast blue shadows across it.

The fir trees were like sparkling, gem-laden Christmas trees, 

the only ones Susan had ever seen.

The orchard, with the lacy boughs outlined with snow, 

was a grove of fairy trees.

The woods were enchanted, exquisite, the trees were holy,

and anything harmful had shrunken to a thin wisp 

and had retreated into the depths.

from The Country Child by Alison Uttley

The carol singers

We had an early visitation from carol singers tonight.

I was already Hoovering up the needles from our not-non-drop tree,

so I nearly didn't hear them.

They started with Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer,
sung with some gusto.

Only one of them knew the words to We Wish You A Merry Christmas,

 the other one was miming bravely but approximately.


There is a very special sort of facial expression needed
for carol singers when the freezing air is rushing through the open door and you are clutching a vacuum cleaner.
 You can smile fixedly for the duration,
but you will soon tire,
you can sing along encouragingly,
but they may look put out, 
and you may have to clap energetically as they draw breath for Siiilent Niight
otherwise you will catch pneumonia.
Ours ran out of repertoire quite quickly and as the fading bars morphed 
with visible signs of relief into
a rather mechanical 'Haaappy Chriiistmas' 
it was clear that it was my turn.
'That was lovely. Who are you collecting for?' 
'Um,' said one of them.
The other one looked around for inspiration.
'Charity?' she said.
50p each seemed to be the going rate.


From Something to Do in December


The gates of the walled cities and towns of the Middle Ages were guarded by watchmen who were called waits. One of their duties was to sound the hours by playing a note or a simple tune on a wind instrument like an oboe. As many of the waits were musicians they gradually came to form bands which played on special occasions.
Later on, when cities had police forces, there was no need for watchmen or waits. But one of their duties had been to play songs for the Christmas festivals in the streets. This is why carol singers are sometimes called waits.
They still call at houses before Christmas, but mostly they are children collecting money either for themselves or some good cause.

Christmas Lights

without the broken bulb.

Sussex winter landscape

balm for the soul on the homeward journey

after a Christmas shopping excursion.

December Stillness

December stillness, teach me through your trees

That loom along the west, one with the land,

The veiled evangel of your mysteries.

While nightfall, sad and spacious, on the down

Deepens, and dusk imbues me, where I stand,

With grave diminishings of green and brown,

Speak roofless Nature, your instinctive words;

And let me learn your secret from the sky,

Following a flock of steadfast-journeying birds

In lone remote migration beating by.

December stillness, crossed by twilight roads,

Teach me to travel far and bear my loads.

by Siegfried Sassoon

These trees do run along our western boundary 

and were granted an

exaggerated majesty by dusk, 

not apparent by day.

How to make a pomander

When there are several more pressing things to do

why not make a pomander?

Mother tells you how.

It was rather therapeutic.  

Use a skewer to make the holes otherwise you get clove thumb.

Winter Light

The shortening days

 bring out 

my inner 

Scandinavian.

River walk, rooks, Finnish rye bread,
reading Tove Jansson.

Thinking big

It all started with a visit to a local derelict church 
when our younger son was three.

Someone in a hard hat, opened up the organ and played a few wheezy notes.

That was the beginning of an obsession with the pipe organ.

But first, he was told, you must learn to play the piano.

His feet didn't reach the pedals.

Then the school offered him lessons 

on the double bass.

He disappeared behind it.

He took up the saxophone

and started singing lessons.

His voice broke early and he settled as a bass.

We began to see a pattern.

This weekend he brought home the latest oversized instrument,

(ideal for the closet megalomaniac as one teacher said)

a baritone saxophone.

Making mincemeat

The observant among you will have noticed

that I took this picture in the bathroom.

Because at this time of year

you have to go where the light is

even if you feel a bit silly balancing mincemeat

along the edge of the bath.

Today

I took the train to Brighton

 to keep my badges company,

at the Six Christmas Open House.

Had to keep an open mind about some of the exhibits,

Yes. It's a partially incinerated wooden pallet.

Yes. It's a bath.

Took a walk on the front.

Paused with this gull.

Thought about gullibility. 

Liked this lonely helter-skelter.

Popped into the Museum

and played my favourite game

What would I

borrow?

Settled on this day bed with screens

designed by Armand-Albert Rateau.

Did I buy anything in the shops?

Yes.

A sought after 1947 King Penguin book

from their eclectic list.

Wildflowers of the Chalk

by John Gilmour.

A present from Brighton.