Snowmen

Dan and E build snowmen, and explore the snowy garden.

Snow's Different in the Day

Birds perch atop a snow covered chimney.

No washing out on our road today.

Snow can make the world very black and white, but there is always some colour.

Snow's Back

Having a day off during half term and went into town with the boys. We walked back and just as we were getting home it started snowing. It is still snowing now at 9:30pm. Maybe we can go sledging this weekend.

Eyes on the goal

Sometimes you stumble across a quote that reminds you of things forgotten. Things unbelievably important but somehow swallowed up in the day to day. For me, this is one of those quotes. It's Brigham Young:

“Your spirits when they came to take [earthly] tabernacles were pure and holy. There is no spirit among the human family that was begotten in hell; none that were begotten by angels, or by any inferior being. They [are all the children of] our Father in heaven. He is the Father of our spirits; and if we could know, understand, and do His will, every soul would be prepared to return back into His presence. And when they get there, they would see that they had formerly lived there for ages, that they had previously been acquainted with every nook and corner, with the palaces, walks, and gardens; and they would embrace their Father, and He would embrace them and say, ‘My son, my daughter, I have you again;’ and the child would say, ‘O my Father, my Father, I am here again.’” (Brigham Young, Journal of Discourses, 4:268)

More Fun in the Snow

It's been freezing all week, we've had plenty of snow, and for once the snow did not thaw before the weekend which means... we could go sledging.

Met up with the Nats and the J&HKs at the Cropston entrance to Bradgate Park, and must have played for at least 2 hours. It snowed on and off, and when it wasn't snowing we had glorious sunshine. A perfect day for it.

We had no sledge so I made one before we left from scrap wood. It was based on the design of a successful one my Dad made. We nailed Corex (the stuff 'for sale' signs are made of) to the underside of the runners and that made run nice and smooth.

The only real upset was when it was home time.

Enjoy the pics.

E on the sledge that Dad built.

Heading up the path with E in tow. We met up at a less busy and more gentle slope just before you get to the gift shop.

Heading up the hill. If you want to go the whole hill you need to aim for a gap in the wall on the way down. Here J and JK head up the hill for a race. E is the tiny dot top right and Uncle N is already at the top.

A tired E heading home along the path.

Pheasant slain in high speed collision (oh, and our windscreen smashed too)

The following took place between 1pm and 2pm on Sunday 27th December 2009.

You know when life slows down, something is happening, it is happening quickly, but it seems to be going slowly... well that's how it was. Either that or the (now deceased) pheasant was gliding slowly across the dual-carriageway, and instead of flapping to gain altitude just kept getting lower and lower until it met our windscreen at 70mph - because it looked like that too. Either way it was all over in seconds. Not time enough to change lanes or slow sharply and safely - just WHAM!

Then a spray of fine glass (like 'white' glitter I thought afterwards) dusting front seat passengers, the seats and dashboard. The rear view mirror flying and striking J on the elbow. The sudden loss of visibility, and I am trying to make out a dual-carriageway, at high speed, with surrounding traffic, through the fragments of glass that were still big enough to see through. The shouts of alarm, dismay, from the passengers. I am thinking it's a good job we are in the left hand lane. I am indicating left as I slow the car. Then hazard lights as we pull over on to the verge (the hard shoulder is way too narrow).

Then questions, concern, but I am thinking we need to get out, this is not a safe place to wait in the car. So out we get, we climb the embankment, and wait high above the traffic, in the ice, and wind.

We are cold, but we are alive, and unharmed, and safe.

I phone Dad, and says he will drive out to pick up M and the kids.

I phone the RAC, but the phone cuts out. Signal? Phone probs? I try again, they are in high demand (according to the recorded message) and I am put in a queue. All the time I am wondering if the phone battery or credit will last as long as the queue lasts - 0800 numbers are not free for mobile phones. We wait. I listen to the repeated message and funky music. L is getting cold so M wraps him in her cardy. We wait some more, and pace about at the top of the embankment. Still in the RAC phone queue - surely they will pick up now. But they don't. As we wait we are clearly an object of interest for passing motorists. The oncoming carriageway is full of turning heads. But still no human operator from the RAC.

Then the phone cuts out. What!? Why? Signal? The RAC? I don't know. All I know is that the screen shows my call was over 27 minutes long before it cut out. I still hadn't got through to a human operator. The whole time standing at the top of a freezing embankment by the side of a dual-carriageway. I am cross and frustrated.

Then Dad arrives. M and the kids get inside with some things from the car.

I no longer expect to be able to get through to the RAC, I don't know if I have enough credit or battery to survive another phone queue that might take longer than the fruitless 27 minutes I have already waited. I make a snap decision. I will drive the car back to Dads. M protests, thinks I will not be safe. But I am more concerned about being stopped by a copper, and yet see no other option given the experience so far. This is not weather for waiting around without proper outdoor clothes - you don't mess with hypothermia. I follow behind Dad, we go gently. In hindsight, a tow rope and sign would have made it that little bit less risky, but not much. There is enough screen for me to see through if I sit further forward than normal and we make it back without problems.

The mixtures life throws at us are often interesting. This time a mix of gladness that the people are well and unhurt, annoyance at the lack of RAC, crossness at the 'stupid pheasant', the recall of the impact, the 'if only we went straight on instead of left'. Then acceptance. The things that matter most are still with us. Gratitude that things were not worse. Gratitude for parents that love and care, and go out of their way and the extra mile to help.

2 hours later, and sitting in the warm, I realise that if I had got through to the RAC I would probably only just be getting picked up by an overworked recovery van, and very very cold. Not sure what 2 hours in an icy wind, with only a suit jacket for an overcoat would do to a man - nothing good I am sure. Perhaps it was better the way it turned out.

The car stays at Mum and Dad's that night, and Dad drops us all home.

Twas Christmas day in the workhouse...

...and snow was raining fast, while a bare footed boy with clogs on, stood sitting on the grass.

We had a nice relaxing Christmas Day. Opened our pressies, ate some food (even though Dad prepped it), napped, ate some more food, stayed up late and so forth.

Here E enjoys his new Marble Run: