Friday the first of February - White rabbits!- slight covering of snow but now a lovely sunny day - sun pouring in through my sitting room window and Tess stretched out full length in it after having ten minutes out in the well-fenced garden whether she liked it or not.
So - no Brexit, no weather - let's have a change of topic today.
A few years ago, when the farmer and I still lived on the farm, I posted a photograph on this blog. It was of a 4000 year old axe head which my father in law had picked up somewhere in one of the fields. We had it looked at by a museum expert in York and he said the stone had come from the Langdale Pikes in the Lake District and had probably been discarded because it was no longer of any use - it had been used too much.
People travelled around all that time ago - not just from West to East in this country - but much further afield. And as the centuries have passed so has man's desire to 'know what is out there' increased - and of course the ultimate has always been wars, sadly, when thousands of men have been transported away round the world for much more terrible reasons.
This morning in TheTimes which I read much more thoroughly than usual over my breakfast (I usually keep the thorough read for the evening when there is nothing to watch on the television) there are two stories which caught my attention and which I thought I would share with you.
One is of a Bronze Age locket - a bulla - found in the Shropshire Marches - and one of only two found in this country to date. Who lost it? Where had he/she come from - it would most likely be a 'local' but still a wonderful find.
But the other, and much more fascinating story I think is of a snowdrop. Ann Treneman in her 'Notebook' today talks of a lady called Anna Pavord, who - when she moved to Devon- found a
distinct and 'different' snowdrop in her garden. Intrigued, she sent it to a snowdrop expert (John Sales) and he told her that she was quite right - it was different. He thought it was a wild snowdrop and maybe from the Caucasus. How then did it get to her Devon garden? He suggested that it might have come in the pocket of a soldier fighting in the Crimean war (there was a local regiment who had indeed been there).
So folks, lets forget all about Westminster and its problems, the M1 and its snowy gridlocks - let's think instead of all these wonderful things that lie beneath our feet and which tell us so much about the movements and interests of our ancestors.
Have a nice day.
As I type here two hours later it is snowing again. And in the meantime a good kelching (Lincolnshire word = no other will do) of healthy fym has been spread right up to my garden wall. It is like being back on the farm again!