Unexpected pleasures

In the evening we decide to open a bottle of wine. We listen to some Louis Armstrong - I'd heard on the radio that he was banned from broadcasting on the BBC by Lord Reith as his form of jazz was just "jungle music" performed by a load of monkeys so we just had to show our support for Satchmo. Afterwards the Fox got up to make some tea. He soon came running in. I had to get up & look. Through the glass in the front door, a winter wonderland had appeared. A couple of inches of snow had fallen & more was still coming down. It looked so beautiful, so pristine.

This morning I woke to find how much lighter & brighter the bedroom looked. I was reminded what Mr P has often said. He regularly visits Finland. They've had mild winters of late, just as we have tended to have. It has really got the Finns down. Being so far north, their daylight hours in winter are short, indeed it rarely gets beyond murky. They apparently have been finding it worse than usual. It has been too mild for their usual thick layer of snow which has made it even darker. Usually the snow reflects and intensifies every bit of light. And that is what is happening here this morning.

Now that I am up, I'm rather perturbed by the weird sky. At times it's dark grey, looking full of yet more snow. Other times it brightens with a sickly yellow colour, almost bilious in tone. Neither skies fill me with much optimism for the day to come. I hastily throw some slices of bread & some nuts out of the back door into the yard for the birds. They are desperately scrambling around looking for some food that isn't hidden under a blanket of white. From the footprints I see now in the snow they've obviously found my offerings. It's too dangerous for me to venture out to our bird food store or the table & feeders to put it out for them.

Talking of food reminds me of a lovely incident yesterday. We went to the Pub as so often, when one of the chefs arrived with a blue plastic box under his arms.

"Those are for you," he says proffering the box to us. "I made them specially for you last night." He went on to give us the cooking instructions & how long they would keep. Inside the box were two venison puddings. Last time we'd seen him we'd told him how much we'd enjoyed the ones we'd had at the Geriatrics' Corner Xmas dinner the other week.

We can't get over the thoughtfulness & kindness. I know he's sometimes come over to chat to us. Sometimes he's let off some steam & we've provided listening ears. We've also provided the Pub with our excess apples & pears at no charge. But we had never expected this. It's nice to be appreciated. The puddings are in the freezer now & will be got out as something special to have on Boxing Day or New Year's Day. And as we eat them we will think of the unexpected bit of generosity from our friend.