Waschbär

This morning I found a raccoon, huddled in the corner of the compost loo.

It was 5am and the birds were at their best, the air was fresh and warm and everything felt more alive than ever.

I thought it was a badger. I have never seen either in the flesh and have not considered that anything badger-like other than a badger lives this side of the Atlantic.

It sat there, peacefully, unperturbed by my presence. Slowly, it moved its' thin, pointed nose towards the ground, as if to indicate that it couldn't care less if I sat down beside it.

I hesitated, wondering if perhaps it had rabies, knowing that it obliterates shyness and draws the animal out of its' comfort zone to seek contact.

But it didn't move. It just fixed its small dark eyes on mine, and waited.

Molly the cat came to find me, and sensed the presence of something unfamiliar. Her body tensed and she made as if to protect herself. She too then sensed its' docility, and backed off.

I went and fetched my camera, and still it was there, in exactly the same position.

Later (after some sleep) I thought I may have dreamed it. I went to check, and it was gone.

Better Late than Never

Ahhhh. That's more like it! At last I can announce that SPRING HAS ARRIVED!

The last pile of snow in the yard, blackened with dirt, finally melted at the weekend. We are now blessed with blue skies and full sun (20° out of the shade), a brisk breeze and the rich smell of bare earth. The birds are unstoppable - and so too are we now, having waited so long to be released outdoors.

Landscaping and clearing beds are the order of the day, although weeding is still off limits with the heavy winter moisture clinging to the earth. But we can sit out here in the fresh evening air (albeit with woolly jumpers!) and dream up all the things that now so urgently need our attention.

Doors are almost done on the polytunnel (after careful measuring of the remaining strips of tough plastic) bringing peace of mind when inevitable winds pick up. It feels as though the wind has been waiting for warm, sunny weather to regularly shake up the false sense of peace that glorious sunshine brings.

Our careful re-glazing of the greenhouse requires us to be constantly on the ball, allowing no loose objects within sight of the large panels - such easy victims of a sudden gust.

Many tomato plants (now crowding out our window sills) have made their way into the warm, sheltered space of the glass house, and the excitable roots of broad beans have finally found a home in the cleared earth.

The chickens are much happier to roam in their wild woodland pen, but with no bounds to their curiosity the extended fenced area must be completed before more young plants make their way out. Battling with jagged, reclaimed fencing we begin the painstaking process of installing the last necessary boundary (protecting the polytunnel and vegetable patch) in whatever time we can snatch together.

Our time is made possible by the fact that Maia now has some firm play dates with our neighbour's girl, as well as the luxury of a Polish lady dedicating her time to support us in whichever way is called for. She has emerged serendipitously from my English class in town, so taken with our endeavour that she is relocating to our village and committed to coming regularly with any skill that is needed. Her knowledge and experience are vast and her humble good will truly abundant.

Dear friends and family are beginning to emerge with planned visits as life streams back into our farm in the middle of Europe. We feel blessed already and welcome every breath of fresh air heading our way, as 2013 finally finds its feet in the Oberlausitz.

Spring Or Not To Spring

Hello Sun!!

Briefly, oh so briefly, we saw your face and how we enjoyed your warmth and light! 

Sadly, the moment has passed. 

This has apparently been the dullest winter on record for over 60 years. They say this is not normal. We live in hope. 

Or at least we did...

Last week once again gave us a tantalising taste of spring – mild fresh air, bare ground with just a few traces of snow skulking in the shadows and that smell of earth, growth, the promise of life...

Now, everything is once again white, nearly a foot deep in parts.

On the plus side, the chickens are at least laying in one place. But that is the only plus I can come up with right now!

Downstairs, the tiling is now finished above our stove and another glass jar window seals the granite frame between office and kitchen-to-be. This time it is much bigger – nearly fifty jars (we have had so many traditional preserving jars donated that finding enough of the right size was easily done and it feels only right that the kitchen should make double use of them). To vary the theme, some have been painted with red glass paint. There is something of a stained glass effect that is particularly good in the evening with light shining through from the office.

It is empowering to create an entire window from recycled jars, particularly when examining the cost of windows built to measure. We wait with baited breath for the two that we have ordered for the kitchen - a job that we are simply not skilled enough to carry out ourselves. One will fit in the existing window frame on the north side, just slightly narrower to accommodate the height of work surface and sink. Opposite, on the south side, will be double balcony doors. As soon as they are ready, we will need to break through the wall into the yard, to then forever have direct access from the kitchen to the outdoors.

Upstairs, Saskia's room is now considerably warmer with the floor sealed and insulated: an old foam mattress, discarded rockwool insulation and some hemp found in the attic snugly fill the cavity, and rolls of off-cut carpet left on the roadside make for an almost new floor cover (the joins subtly covered by rugs).

Outside, we made use of the brief show of sun last week to measure out the big field, now looking a lot more inhabited than the strips either side that have once again had their weeds killed off. Using a 15 metre-long rope with a stick at either end, we leisurely covered the ground with Maia proudly carrying one stick to the other whilst repeating the number of turns we had made. With these figures we can begin to shape a clearer picture of how much fencing and hedgerow plants we will need to prepare.

Whilst doing the round we looked up once to see two small animals just below the tree line that were certainly too stumpy and not nearly elegant enough to be the customary deer that cavort in the fields above us. After a while, we recognised them to be wild bore. We have often heard of them being in the area, but it was the first time we had actually spotted them.

The chickens have been escaping over to a neighbour's compost heap, so our latest project is to make their enclosure bigger, more inviting and also more secure. Extending it down to the stream to include the wooded area will give them far more variety and make use of what is otherwise very underused territory. We hope that this will satisfy their need for adventure and thus also secure the future of the fledgling plants that will hopefully, soon be planted out.

Broken Promises

Almost one month on, and we still have snow!

The early burst of snow in October now leaves us in retrospect with the enduring impression that our winter is close to being six months long!! This is of course not strictly true. The snow has melted in between times for a few days here and there and once (about ten days ago) you could smell spring tangibly in the air.

These last few days have brought more fresh snowfall – a steady white drizzle restoring immaculate order and dashing fledgling promises of life and abundance.

The birds are going crazy, not knowing whether to come or go, clustering in conference on the larch tree then wildly cackling off to alight elsewhere for a moment, filling snow-filled crevices with echoing song pleading for life, for green, for something to change...

The chickens have also been getting rather confused, taking it upon themselves to lay in any comfortable corner they come across on the days that they have ventured out. It took a while for me to realise (thinking the changeable weather had reduced their urge to lay) until I came across twelve eggs in the corner of the sheep shed, three in a plant pot and a handful in a pile of sand.

Inside, with all our beds crowded into the big room for warmth, I have now been able to strip Saskia's room, seal off the hatch and the channels we had chiselled out to accommodate the new electrical system, repaint and soon to take up the floor boards and insulate against the cold air from the cellar steps directly below.

In the coldest months this room suffered the most from damp, having no wood burner within reach of it. It is clear that by next winter we must have some kind of integrated heating system to include this room and the bathroom that will replace our temporary kitchen.

A distraction came my way last week in the form of a day as an Extra for a film being shot in Görlitz. Thirteen hours I spent there, eleven of which just sitting around in costume in cold, draughty rooms drinking coffee and eating white rolls with sliced ham and cheese. Crew received crusty brown bread with salmon and salad and rumour has it the stars were fully catered for with fresh, organic food in their heated dressing rooms!

It was certainly an experience to get a sense of what it is like behind the scenes of a film and to watch with awe the skill of the costume-makers and make-up artists: they are truly the backbone of any film production, dressing up their models to then perform as puppets at the beck and call of the Director... 15 times we had to simulate a busy kitchen, me slicing bread over and over with a blunt knife the first shoot and washing up in a dry sink for the other! It was impossible to really get into character and stay in it with the continuous stopping and starting.

I came away feeling very grateful that my life is my own.

Incubating

At last I am beginning to feel the urge once again to write. Our Siberian winter has eradicated the notion of linear time and feels just like an endless experience that has neither beginning nor end, no particular direction nor impulse to change.

We are well and truly decked from all sides by glistening white snow, frozen beyond all hope of making snowballs, the roads compacted by intrepid cars undeterred by English winter angst and hardly distinguishable from the endless frozen landscape that holds us in her timeless grip.

Life goes on here, regardless. Schools and shops stoically remain open and the short days hold few goals beyond keeping home warm and bellies full.

Once our big girl is packed off to school by moonlight, the next two hours are taken up with stoking fires, forcing open the door to the chicken shed to defrost their water and vainly hunt for one or two eggs, throwing a heap of hay out for the sheep, checking the rabbit is still alive and feeding the cats to keep them from scouting anywhere for leftovers and scuffling through our precious trays of fragile seedlings.

The rabbit is now well and truly a house pet with her hutch permanently open and her favourite hideout under the guest bed in the office. She startled the chimney sweep on his last visit, sitting bright eyed under the car and prompting a slightly bemused enquiry as to whether she really belonged...

Chillies, peppers and onions are coming up nicely on our window sills, much faster than they did last year in our town flat. They are the only reminder of life outdoors that will someday return. The compost heap is frozen solid and our outdoor loo (we still bravely visit it shivering under -15° before rushing back into the warmth upstairs) can no longer withstand any liquid...

Our tiled oven upstairs is our saving grace, running continuously on coal for this year, enabling us to shut it down over night and keep the living space above zero. With the woodburner fired up in the main room (where we now all sleep) we can certainly keep life indoors pretty cosy.

Sledging, skiing, ice skating and brisk walking keep our spirits up. When the sun is out - it finally returned after two weeks of continuous grey – the snowscape is truly stunning.

Needless to say, progress on anything is painfully slow. A set of shelves and curved cupboard doors for the small arches are the latest development. They set off the paintwork beautifully and hint at how gorgeous the final combination of wooden floorboards and worktops with the Moroccan-style walls, ceramic sink and double doors into the yard, will eventually be...

We are still awaiting action on replacing the two windows after dithering about costs and materials and gathering quotes to help us clarify the course of action. PVC is by far the cheapest option for made-to-measure windows. Yet we cannot bring ourselves to stoop so low. Quotes for any wood other than pine are at least three times the price... yet we are still holding out for our local carpenter to give us a sympathetic quote. Although a man of few words he has shown a willingness to negotiate and seems open to consider how much we can do ourselves to keep the finances within our reach.

It feels like this is the time when everything is paired down to its' absolute essentials. Rarely a visitor, no unnecessary driving, lots of eating, resting and simply surviving. Next week the winter holidays begin. Two weeks in the middle of February - the natural reaction would be to run off somewhere hot! But for us (with animals to tend and no cash to spare) it is simply a case of sitting it out, making the most of winter sports and nestling down to long evenings by the fire with a good movie.

Ice Sculptures & Signs of Life