Our pampered hens could not face their fear of snow. The insults and swearing as I open the hen door that first morning after. Two hours later and not a single step outside. But this was to be there temporary moving out day anyway, to a warmer undercover spot as the first taste of a real winter begins to bite. For the next week they are sharing with some very bemused cats in the old henhouse quarters. Soon they are stealing from the cat bowls, who's in charge here? Now nearer the front door and within eye view, our every step outside and the demanding clucking starts. Our realisation as to why we had put their henhouse so far away in the first place.
The bleak conditions coming and a test for all nature to show its hardy survival skills. For us, four jumpers on top of thermals and that's inside the cottage. Just the sound of the burning stoves to remind us that we are warm enough. But working with our resources, namely autumn's apples at the moment, help to keep us occupied. Recipes of new jams and wine, maybe another attempt at cider without becoming vinegar this time. Plenty of time to try as the wind blows the snow back onto the cleared road and leaves us stranded for a few more days.