Just snow.

So much for the forecast of another day of summer sunshine. Thank you Mr.Weatherman. Around noon the skies became leaden and by two the first flakes of snow had begun to saunter lazily down from the scudding clouds. Voila ! By four a full scale blizzard was underway and the garden looked as though it was Christmas again with three inches of fine powdery snow blanketing everything. Any residual hope for the remaining geraniums evaporated as the snow tumbled down and the chill wind picked up.

Wilf and Digby spent an hour playing in the garden but by early evening they had both decided that they had seen more than enough snow for the day. I managed to entice them out briefly after dinner but they then went on strike and firmly refused to move from their respective beds. The snow had clearly touched some elemental hibernatory nerve and the two of them slumbered away oblivious to us and the storm outside.

The snow has now moved on and this morning the trees around the house are alive with birds. As I write the woodpecker family are hanging upside down, resplendent red crests outlined against the sky, busily pecking away at the old oak at the gate. The bird table is alive with a teeming mass of robins, finches and blue tits all tumbling over each other in chirruping chaos - a natural palet of vibrant colour. We live in the 'biological' farming centre of France and the absence of chemicals and insecticides seems to have enabled man and nature to find a workable and mutually beneficial balance that enables both to thrive . For some reason this balance and the mass of wildlife all around gives us huge pleasure and hope.