About a week ago the temperature nudged up into double figures and the sun shone - admittedly there was much mud and wetness too but it did seem to herald an end to this interminable cold.
Hah! Fat chance of that. The big chill is back and with it the chore of schlepping buckets of water up to the poultry from the house. Not only have the water butts frozen up but the washers to their taps have been wrecked by the ice and the Glam Ass's attempts to replace them was complicated by a tap breaking as well. The repair job involved emptying the butt in question - so now we must wait for torrential rain to fill it up again. Back to carting water for me then.
Never mind - my seed order from Thompson and Morgan arrived at the end of last week; packets and packets of seed. Packets of such promise. Time to plan out what goes where too - this year I need to start a new chart of our raised beds which shows what has been planted in previous years. We're very keen on our crop rotation up here in the small mountain kingdom of Trelystan; like should not follow like and some things need more muck than others. The Glam Ass has spruced up the labels for the beds and I will go and plant them when the soil has thawed sufficiently.
I'm going to make room for some flowers too - I've been very inspired by Elizabethm's cutting garden - a couple of rows of fragrant sweet peas at the very least.
I've got itchy feet and itchy fingers - I want to be out there getting on with things. I think I should be able to sow some modules of onions under glass but everything else will have to wait. Sigh.
There are lambs down in the village at last - little scraps of things, bleeting for mum and milk. They're as promising to me as those packets of seed. New life at last. Spring will come.