When I wake up in the cold mornings, with the howling skies and the winds so sharp and clear they cut your teeth. The ground is hard as pure hate. The ice lurking dark and deep under the snow. I cannot believe that there will ever again be a morning when I sit getly on the step in the warm morning sun, to drink a big mug of coffee after the chores, dressed in a short skirt and singlet with sand-shoes and no socks.
I wake to a sunrise that makes me think of the sea. A choppy cold Atlantic sea. I was raised on a beach, you will remember, and people say to me don’t you miss the sea. Oh no I say- in the winter I am in a panoramic sea, wide open as though gravity is lost and the sea hurls itself above me and the plains laid beneath still as the age of sifting stone. Spitting at each other as they pass.
Foam capped waves mocking snow capped waves. Especially when the wind blows, whipping the spray of the snow up and launching it across at my windows. Then they both laugh and joke, earth and sky, linking arms blocking out all the sun, then go off to the pub for a drink and we sit and inhale and exhale and wait for the next horizonal bitter icey brawl.
The sun comes up across the plains and creeps in amongst my apple trees. It is hard to believe that in a few months there will be green growth. It is hard to believe that we will ever have green or warm or fruit and food from this garden again. Even harder to believe that nestled in the bellies of my cows and sheep (and hopefully soon my pig) there are little baby animals growing and changing, developing into leggy toddler babies. Waiting for the spring or at least the late winter.
How does anything survive out here.
Are we there yet I want to whine. Are we half way? How far until spring? Snivvle. I feel sick. I want to go to the toilet. Whine! Gabrielle put her foot in my face! Whine. Tim is picking his nose. WHINE. WHINE!! Can we stop so we can get down out of this winter for a wee break, so we can stretch our legs, kick a ball in the road, maybe have a picnic under that tree we just went past. Mum always made the best travelling picnics with tea in flasks with their own tin cups.
Well then, can’t we go any faster?!
But we cannot go any faster, the lowing sun moves at its own pace and there are no picnic stops from the winter. We must Drive On. With the windows down. Feeling every single particle of cold.
And then we reach the end of the day. The pink heat lamp with no heat at all slides gently back off the sea-sky pulling its own plug as it goes, the earth waves, see ya hon, let’s do it again tomorrow.
And I know that once again this girl from the beach, with the help of her good husband, has completed another farm day, fed the animals, kept everyone sheltered and warm, pitted her wits against the cold, cold weather, heaved around hay and straw and hauled water and kept the peace. Chatted to the peahens, missed her prize pig and tried a new cow safe knot on the gate, and we are all safe today. A good day. And I loved every bloody minute of it. Cold? Well it is winter.
I hope you all have a lovely day.
Your friend on the farm
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
53 responses to “A Cold Beauty is it’s own Consolation”
What a lovely acceptance of winter and life! I live by the sea and the sun is out and warm on this winter day so I cannot complain. I found your blog via Belocchio and am glad I did.
You are an exquisite writer and an amazing woman; I never bypass your blog; I always read it. Blessings on you, and maybe a sliver of warmth if it works.
The photos are breath taking! I see the sea too.
Gorgeous images to go with poetic words. Beautiful post.
I wish I could have said as beautifully how I feel today. Your words are my thoughts… I am tired of this bitter cold. The deceitful sunshine is not convincing …the wind is blowing fiercely and it’s biting. I had a hike to the barn and back in deep snow with ice hiding underneath to feed my kitties. The big heavy barn door hardly budged for me. I had to throw my whole body into it. Opening and closing. uffda….
Yes…it is winter….but I yearn for warmth and green grass and my gardens. I yearn to sit in my sun parlor and read a good book while sipping my coffee iced. I want to feel warm breezes and be soothed by my sheers billowing as I sail away in my mind. I am beginning to hate winter now.
It’s so long, so painfully cold….brrrr….my kitties are waiting to be set free to mouse and carouse in the catnip growing wild in the trees. I miss working outside…. 😦
You write so beautifully Celi…sigh…Summer wants summer too! 😉 We are tired of winter….where is May? Hurry hurry hurry!!!!!
One of those days….sigh….
Beautiful view from your windows. 🙂
Don’t mind me…just one of those days…. (((((hugs)))))
Absolute poetry.
“The ground is hard as pure hate” – such a fine phrase. ” …in the winter I am in a panoramic sea, wide open as though gravity is lost and the sea hurls itself above me and the plains laid beneath still as the age of sifting stone. Spitting at each other as they pass.” Says so much.
Of course that first picture is etched into memory. Totally striking
and the rest – as always, excellently captured
Beautiful prose. Beautiful photos. Beautiful winter.
Some of the most evocative photos you have ever shown . . . they show us the beauty but spare us the icy blasts and temperatures . . . oh to look forwards to that spring nursey the farmy will become 🙂 ! Soon!!!! The map of NSW is full of some 100 bushfires, a quarter uncontained as yet again with over a 1000 firies doing their best . . . the opposite picture . . . yet I am lucky at the moment as a small part of it just where I am has thick but gentle cloud, a ‘blessed rain from heaven upon the ground beneath’ [remember ‘Camelot’?], no wind and just barely short sleeve weather . . . wish I could send some to you!!!
I love the picture of your sheep!
Winter sucks. It just does. But those beautiful pics are some consolation!
This is definitely survival time. I love your image of new life nestling inside the bellies of the animals. That must be such a comforting thought.
I really can’t imagine to feel that kind of weather. The little seeds that lie dormant under their blanket of earth, waiting. But I suppose that’s what you need most. Imagination. And trust. Lovely post.
Those are lovely morning skies, Celi. It is bloody hot here — it’s not supposed to be this sunny in northern California and our governor has declared official drought. We need rain — can you send us some of your snow?
wonderful pics and wonderful writing Celi – really gorgeous…
What a beautiful post, Celi. It is a true symphony of words. And the images which accompany your words are equally impressive! Wonderful!