It is now three-thirty in the afternoon and it has not really got light yet. The farmer reminded me at lunch time that we put the clocks back this weekend, so it will be dark even earlier. Oh dear, Winter is surely on its way. I suppose I shouldn't complain; if I lived in Northern Norway it would be dark almost all day by now and I don't think I am cut out for that kind of life. Somehow I need the light to survive. But today is just one of the 'dark days before Christmas' which my mother used to complain about.
Yesterday was so different. We had our poetry meeting in a friend's conservatory - light, airy and very warm although the sun was not quite out. I can assure you that there is something very relaxing about sitting in such a place and listening to good poetry being read out and watching the world go by. A flock of Winter thrushes (fieldfare and redwing) swooped over at one point, and - dead on cue - a white pigeon flew on to the roof just as one of us was reading a lovely poem about a white fantail pigeon.
It is sad that poetry is no longer popular as it used to be. Good poetry says such truths in so few words. We had Shakespeare, Walter de la Mare, Congreve, Yeats, Auden, Pam Ayres, Carol Ann Duffy, poets from the Great war - and plenty of others. As there were only eight of us we managed to read four pieces each - and have an interesting chat about them in between. It is such a civilised afternoon and one of my favourites in the month.
Today we have a Belgian Blue heifer close to her first calving. She is pacing up and down the field and has 'bagged up well' as the farmer says. The trouble is that often this breed find first births very difficult and need vet-assistance, so we shall have to watch her carefully over the next few hours.
As it is my birthday week-end I am being taken out tomorrow by a friend to buy my present. I will post it on my blog so that you can share it on Saturday. In the meantime, if you are in this awful dismal weather - keep smiling, the sun is only just behind the clouds.