Snow in the Ardèche mountains
We generally have about two weeks of snow each winter here in the mountains. And last night I checked the forecast: yep, two little snow symbols and a predicted temperature of 2C.
It is a thrill when you wake up in the pitch dark and fling open the wooden shutters. Well it’s a thrill for people who don’t live in Moscow or Minneapolis.
And here it was. Big fat wet flakes. It wasn’t actually cold enough for the snow to really stick and cause trouble.
But I didn’t count on it snowing non stop. Eight hours of snow, even if it’s not freezing, will settle.
And settle it did.
I was on animal feeding this week as our neighbour is away. So the horses were delighted to see me when I eventually emerged around 9am. They had half a bale of hay, granules of some sort of magic ingredient I didn’t know, and dried bread.
They love those; but how on earth they can crunch down an entire baguette that is rock soli
d is quite beyond me. Maybe they have to be French horses.
I left them to it and did a joyous walk through the falling snow down to the letterbox. I was on the look out for animal tracks but didn’t see a lot. Just little Artur tracks.
Oh yes, I can see he had a great frolic in the morning; and then making a beeline for the big living room window so he could look plaintive and beg to be let in.
And I knew I was in for a day in front of the fire; so I decided to get in a huge pile of firewood from the lean to at the end of the house.
So that’s where I left my wheelbarrow yesterday. Oops.
And here is a gift Sarah, is a large view of our favourite tree; the white mulberry that is laden with snow on the lower terraces. She had a painterly eye to appreciate the contrast of the black on white.
