Squawk!

Oooo er. There was great consternation in the hen house-on-wheels this morning; the world was white. For a simple minded hen this was a lot to take in. Imagine it. Go to bed: green. Wake up, throw open the curtains (or in the case of poultry - pop-hole): white. Cluck cluck indeed....

There was much anxious clucking and inclining of quizzical combed heads until the bravest hopped out to investigate - or as I suspect - was pushed out by the mardy cockerel. The refugees from across the border followed; they're a spunky pragmatic bunch and up for taking on the world, white weathered, brown feathered or otherwise.

The others - the poncey 'breeds', the Marans and Legbars - have spent the day not quite getting to grips with snow and huddled in a miserable bunch at the doorway. They bucked up a bit when I took them the remains of yesterday's 'Dauphinoise' potatoes but then took themselves sulkily to bed where they squabbled, pushed and shoved each other for pole position on the perch. (The refugees from across the border, incidently, having made the smaller house their own had roosted in line quite amicably and were crooning to one another - old and comforting folk tales from the homeland no doubt.)
Me? Well, I've had my vest tucked in and worn my hood up over the best gardening hat and it's still been damned cold. The wind has roared in from the east full of gritty snow but nothing serious. We're white over but only enough, as I hint above, to worry a hen. A couple of centimetres perhaps? Come on - I need more. I've urged it on - I fancy drifts and fairytale landscapes - I've lit the fire, got candles, scarves, vest and gloves - a full larder too. I feel it's going to pass us by. I feel prepared. Winter where are you?