
It has been a quiet Christmas here in Avren. The misty and damp days that led up to the big day were in marked contrast to the couple of warm sunny days that preceded them. We were able to have a little picnic on Kamchia beach at that time.
In the bleak mid-afternoon of Christmas Day (I think that was in the original draft of Christina Rossetti’s classic hymn), there was a gentle falling of snow. Small flakes falling on wet but not frozen ground meant that it was a little while before a rather threadbare carpet of snow appeared. It settled first on a pile of logs and the roof of our wood shed. Nevertheless, it was enough to elevate the day from its early bleakness.
The sound of jingling bells in these parts just means that the goats are trekking to and fro’ between their home and grazing areas, nothing more significant than that. But I have been particularly well-behaved this year, so it is difficult not to feel a bit disappointed that my stocking remained empty. I will reprise the goats at the end of this post.
This morning the sun was shining and the icy wind from yesterday had not put in an appearance. I took the opportunity to replenish my stock of kindling, engaging in some gentle chopping of wood. Can you have gentle chopping? It reminds me of many years ago when I was undertaking a cognitive assessment of a child.
Me: What should you do if a much smaller child hits you?
Child: Hit him back gently.
After being confined indoors for a few days, it was refreshing to be able to work outside for a short while. I was starting to feel lethargic and a little low in spirits – a bit of chopping seems to be a good remedy. For others, a bit of Chopin might do the trick. Maybe I should try some nocturnal kindle making?
And whilst in a vaguely musical groove, it is time to reprise the goats as promised earlier. This morning I added another skill to my ever-expanding rural repertoire – that of coaxing a stray and rather distressed goat out of our garden. I needed a cup of tea after that, relieved not to have been butted.