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The little bird who tapped on my window was leaving me a message. I began to notice isolated bird song cutting improbably through the fog, and now patches of Snowdrops are popping up in meadows and woods, sometimes with purple crocus alongside. I haven’t examined the bare branches of our Japanese maple or rosebushes yet,… Continue reading Sara and Spring

Helen, our local physiotherapist, teaches Pilates several mornings a week to the ladies of the parish. Not only do I make the 5 minute walk to the Village Hall, where the classes are, but also spend an hour gently stretching and pulling and using those deteriorating “core” muscles so I can stand up straight, and… Continue reading Pilates and a frosty morning

Record cold, record heat, record rainfall, record high winds – is this a new phenomenon, triggered by global warming? In the past 20 years I have lived in both southern France and southern England. In the land of milk and honey, the south of France, surrounded by olive groves, it snowed nearly every year. Every… Continue reading Records

Frost as thick as snow clings to rooftops, wall tops, trees, and grass. Temperatures have been below freezing at night and just above in the daytime for a week now, so the frost does not completely melt during the day. This will continue at least until the weekend. This may not be big news for… Continue reading Cold Old Homes

Parties are not the only thing going on in my life.  Under the entertaining and socializing lie other realities.  My sister's dear friend of many years was terminally ill,  and my companion of 13 years, my dog, Tasha, is nearing the end of her days.  I know how it has been for Lora, because I was… Continue reading The Other Side of the Coin

The A big truck (lorry) is parked at the lower part of our driveway, where it is widest, loaded with what will be the walls of my studio, but which also make it too wide to pull up closer. The drive is about a hundred yards from the garden, where the studio will stand. It… Continue reading Only in England

In England, a play house is called a Wendy house. And that could describe the darling home where we had dinner last night. Baskets hang from the peaked kitchen ceiling in the kitchen/dining room giving it the feeling of a farm kitchen. The pictures on the walls of the living room are personal, well-selected and… Continue reading Dinner Party in the village, aftermath

Wendy and Jack live on the other side of the village. I mean, Wendy does; Jack lives in another one, nearby. They are a couple, but like many of us older folk, don’t find it necessary to be married, or even live together. They have invited us for dinner tonight, so we will bundle up… Continue reading Dinner parties and village people

I have so many things I want to write about, I don’t know where to start. Today is as goodas anywhere, at least to begin. Our house is a “listed” house, which means we can’t do much to it without planning permission. We wanted a little studio in the garden so I will have a… Continue reading A STUDIO OF MY OWN

We are going to the farm in Ockley this morning to pick up a leg of lamb and some chicken gizzards. I want to make “gesiers confit” for salads. I loved them in France, mixed with the tough leaves of chicory, called Frisee, and tossed with a tart vinegar and oil dressing. I also loved… Continue reading NOVEMBER