Our little house is well protected against the weather with its thick stone walls and sturdy windows, and we've got a big log burner to keep us warm. It's certainly lovely to be tucked up in the glow of a flickering olive wood fire, but reality doesn't quite mirror the woolly romance of the Toast winter catalogue. You can't wear a floaty knitted scarf when you're chainsawing firewood, and a handwash-only lambswool jumper isn't the most practical attire for sweeping the ashes out of the hearth. Nevertheless, a fire fuelled by wood out of the forest is cheaper and greener than central heating.
Now it looks as though spring might be on the way. The almond blossom has been trying to get going since early January, and suddenly this week fields of uninteresting brown twiggy trees have been transforming into swathes of scented pink beauties (see below). We had a lunchtime barbecue a couple of days ago, I spotted some swallows back from the south, and at least one of our three new chickens has started to lay tiny brown eggs (Valentine's day is traditionally the start of the laying season).
Let's hope I haven't spoken too soon.
