Twittle

Our first sounds of twitter this year, that is from the bird variety, springtime fast approaching. The layer of snow that is left is just the soft icing of a cake. 
The relief that the winter fuel stockpile has not descended too far, the "too many jumpers on is never enough" method has worked again this winter. Not that we have been that mean with burning wood, it's just we have learn't what is enough, which goes a long way towards any philosophy here. 
That can be difficult for some people out here to comprehend. "I am a foreigner so I should be able to spend more" still unfortunately sticks. But as there is no gadget interest for either of us and only manure mixture for the wall or some pumpkin delicatessary we are becoming a boring couple to talk to! 
Rant over! I've just opened the matured marrow wine, taste is dry, very dry, distinctive.. well I like it anyway. Jana is sticking  to the liking of her sweeter apple, slightly fizzed up wine. Pumpkin eating season is slowing down as surplus gooey chunks add to the compost pile. Start getting twitchy to plant something in the garden. Then the new season will really begin. 

Pumpkin crisis

The epidemic of pumpkin and squash growth from last year's garden is now showing it's full effect.
Having noticed mold growth on the skins of these previously orange vegetables we are slightly concerned on how we can consume our quantity before they make delicious compost. As the insides are still firm we can carry on making pumpkin soups, bakes, mash, bread-crumbed and curry style dishes. But even with our best read knowledge of pumpkin storage in the cellar, we fear a loosing battle to the deteriorating yuck on the skins and by springtime this plight will be confined to the history pages of Havran Cottage.

What a boar!

For us it was like finding the yeti. Chasing in the footsteps of a creature we rarely see but do occasionally hear in the woodlands. Whilst fiddling to find a camera it is left to Harik, our smaller dog, braver and dafter than myself to scamper up to face what he probably had not witnessed before. Nose to nose until the shiny, glistening teeth from the boar smiled back, it became all to apparent to Harik to retreat and let our friend trot on towards the safety of the trees. Harik more than happy to show a little sign of wet relief (and not the only one!). 
After finally capturing a sharp enough picture we left the boar to wander out of view on it's bid for survival. Walking back to the cottage we  joked about our courage. Yet this was only a young and small pig compared to the type we see on the back of the hunter's truck. In years to come when we retell of what we saw our's will probably be exaggerated to that size too.

Cold Spell

Thankfully there is enough bread and basics to last us well into next week, I didn't fancy testing any driving skill to navigate our road which currently resembles contents from a blocked sinus. I call this bum freezing temperature in relation to how cold it is when you sit on the outside loo.
Conversations with drippy noses is the norm, small entertainment for each of us to see who's drip will stay on the longest. We don't see many people pass these parts when it is cold like this.
More time spent indoors than out, keeping warmer by spending plenty of time repainting the ceiling above the stove and plastering the wall above the stove. Jana doesn't know my secret of keeping warmer yet!
Table football has been abandoned at the moment for card playing, dominoes, snakes and ladders, just about anything that I'm less likely to win at. The cold hasn't dwindled our competitiveness. 

Stove

Our pumpkin diet is taking on a new meaning, I look to my left I see a pumpkin, I look to my right I see a pumpkin. So far this week pumpkin mash, pumpkin risotto twice, pumpkin soup, pumpkin bake and fried pumpkin in breadcrumbs. A queue of pumpkins and squashes still awaits in the cellar.
Pictured is our second room wood stove, and is finally fully operational. We can now use all the space in the house even in winter! Suddenly we are pealing the woolly layers off but not quite yet. Having not had to operate with so much burning fuel before we have been unquestionably edgy about how much wood we should be using and survive with for the whole of the winter. 
Is a wheelbarrow load of wood a day enough or too much? 
Our stockpile has to last, some nights I panic and think of what else could be burn't. 
I shouldn't be worrying considering the winter huddle around a half-decayed kitchen stove from last year, this is luxury in comparison.

Snug

Snugly tucked under the blanket of expected snow last week, when we wake with the mist in the morning a silence is so loud and deafening. The crystals shine on the surface as it begins to freeze once again, the plastic snow shovel becoming redundant unless I want to add it to the broken tool department in the shed.
Our poor dogs suffering, less places for them to walk, exhaustively I try to dig out snow paths around their usual hangout spots. Able to walk them more often outside our perimeter along our half snow-cleared traffic-less road to compensate. 
Still not a time to relax, wood to chop bravely in the cold with my favourite torn and finger-less gloves and our cow manure mixture application to the inside stone wall to smudge on. All fun.   

Snowfall

Awaiting a deluge of snowfall tomorrow, two loaves of bread and plenty of jam to keep us going near the warmth of the stove. Though there is still a draft from the bathroom as it remains doorless. 
More inside work than out in these conditions. More stonework pointing, more sanding down wooded areas, more making, sewing, tidying, messing, then more tidying. More time for reminiscing, unconnected songs and music to sing out of tune. How we both got to know 'Dempsey and Makepeace' ! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CFfFuwd5L5c).    
The dogs frustrated from our lack of appearance. The occasional sledge run to keep Harik fit as he races us down the hill.
When we have ventured out, cameras have been at the ready, some scenes have been too good not to share and be seen again.