Marmalade

As it's that time of year, and as my efforts are sitting in the kitchen, hopefully set and awaiting labelling, here is my recipe for Ultra-Fine Cut Marmalade for Lazy People, based on the Blessed Delia.

Ratios of ingredients, in whatever quantities you like:

• 2lb Seville oranges
• 1 lemon
• 4 pints water
• 4lb sugar

Steps:

1. Chop oranges and lemon in half and simmer in water for 2 hours until soft. Pan should have a thick bottom, otherwise danger of sticking and burning later.
2. Scrape pith and seeds out of halves into sieve, and strain water. Mash pith etc through sieve and collect goo back in pan with halves and water. Take a hand-held liquidiser to it. Or, you know, use a liquidiser then put back in pan.
3. Add sugar, and stir in until crystals dissolved, while heating.
4. Boil furiously for about 45mins. I haven’t worked out the exact time yet. Delia says 15mins, but she uses proper jam sugar, and it definitely needs longer than that. Don’t put the lid on, otherwise it’ll boil over and make a MASSIVE mess. Test by putting a teaspoon on a plate in the freezer for 5mins. It’s done when pushing with fingernail produces wrinkles.
5. Let marmalade rest 15mins. If scummy, put a tiny bit of butter in. Meanwhile, heat the jars and lids in the oven.
6. Fill jars, don’t bother with wax disks, screw lids on tight while still hot. Label if you can be bothered.

Repeat until all jars and other receptacles in house are filled.

Our connection to the interweb-thingy was down last night, but nothing more sinister we think than our ISP doing a bit of work on it after office hours.

Hunting with hound

Mary and I took advantage of a beautiful sunny afternoon to walk around the grounds, the first time for me in more than a week. I wanted to see if there were any signs of spring, other than grass trying to establish itself on the dried-out mud. And we were rewarded down by the stream, where there was some pussy willow on the verge of bursting, and dog rose in bud.

We were joined by Billy, the friendly small black dog from our neighbours at the bottom of the drive. He wasn't interested in anything as petit bourgeois as fetching sticks, but was quite happy wandering off and rejoining us and rootling in hedges. He dove into the hedge near the southeast corner, and worrited away at something as we approached. There were some strange coughing barks, which I thought at first was Billy, but then looked closer. The smell at two metres was a pretty obvious give-away; it was a fox. S/he coughed at Billy when he got too close, but otherwise just stood at the back of the hedge and watched us warily. The sun in the west lit up its eyes and highlighted the beautiful auburn colouring of its winter coat. But for the smell and Billy, I would have liked to watch for longer, but instead we called off Billy and left it alone.

Pottering

Did the weekly meter-reading round; sorted out the tangled strimmer twine (we think); continued the campaign against chickweed in the kitchen garden; got myself a headache; cleaned some loos; laid low in the afternoon; drafted a case study on the biomass boiler; started my first week of topping and tailing the office: "O God, make speed to save us"!

There are a couple of interesting articles in the Tablet, one summarising the recent Foresight report, “The Future of Food and Farming: Challenges and Choices for Global Sustainability”, the other (not available online) on replacing the vow of poverty with a vow of mutual sustainability. The Week's cover is leading on sexism in football... am wondering whether the Tablet would ever... no probably not.

No smoke without fire

There has been little rain recently, so the ground has mostly dried out and we are able to move around without wallowing. It helped today that temperatures barely got above -1 °C. In preparation for hedge-planting along the eastern fence, a work party hacked and bashed and cleared the brambles, grass and other scrub. We burnt it all, along with pieces of wood left lying around, and those evil weeds which have been decreed are not to go near the compost. The cuttings were tinder dry and burnt in a flash in the stiff breeze, but the wood was decaying and smoulderous. So the smoke produced was not exactly as pure as the driven snow, but sulphurous yellow and billowing.

Coincidentally, I'd just been reading about bonfires, the Clean Air Act, Smoke Control Areas and exempt appliances. In summary:

• An occasional domestic bonfire would not be considered a nuisance.
• There are no Smoke Control Areas in Wychavon.
• Our biomass boiler is in any case an exempt appliance.

Here and there

In the morning I was in Oxford...

Iffley Meadow Nature Reserve, south of Donnington Bridge, felt a bit grey at 7.30am. Or maybe that was the innards of my head! It is a vital green breathing space amidst roads and housing. I've driven over the bridge many times, but never noticed Weirs Mill Stream, roughly parallel to the Thames, or the nature reserve. Such is the nature of travelling in cars, and life lived at speed. Walking down the towpath, I was overtaken by several fours and eights, and their coaches wobbling on their bicycle while watching their crew and wielding a megaphone for the purpose of providing instruction. Birds were scant, but Iffley Lock is the downstream limit for rowing, and a more reflective space. A pair of Canada geese took off, deeply wailing the while, and I was greeted by a robin on the Iffley side.

...And was back to Mucknell for lunch...

Anthony was excited to have seen a raven circling over the Hermitage in the morning. And then after lunch, he called me to say there was a merlin resting on a fence post nearby. The merlin is the UK's smallest bird of prey, and it was difficult to make out much more than a brown shape, even with binoculars. I wondered whether something was going on at the Hermitage; the raven eats carrion, and merlin small birds. Or more fancifully, maybe the raven was Morgana Le Fay.

Ex-libraries

I'm at a short conference in Oxford this week, so here is some local interest. A friend of mine, who is a children's author and lives in Oxford, has joined Philip Pullman and Colin Dexter in the campaign there to save local libraries. Oxford Central Library is not affected. The libraries which are affected are in the places that need them most, such as Blackbird Leys, which is one of the largest council estates in Europe and in the 10% most deprived areas in England.

Libraries provide access to books, films and music, yes, but also the internet, meeting spaces, access to council services, social interaction, mobile libraries, work with children and teenagers, warm places for the homeless, etc etc. For library closures in your area and information about campaigns, see http://publiclibrariesnews.blogspot.com/.

Information is Beautiful

Information is Beautiful, a favourite website, features the Billion Dollar-O-Gram 2009 (click on the image for what each block means and make sure you scroll down to the pale peach one at the bottom), and its close relative, Debtris (there's a £ version too).

"This image arose out of frustration with media reporting of billion dollar amounts. That is, that they’re meaningless without context. But they’re continually reported as self-evident facts. 500 billion for this war. 50 billion for this pipeline. Literally mind-boggling amounts of money."

So the maps collate lots of different news reports in one place, and there's a link to all the data and sources.

Why do I like the website? Because I like analysing information to find patterns and relationships; because a picture is worth a thousand words - a visual representation can put over a message in milliseconds that takes pages of text to convey with much less impact; because someone else is doing all the work :-); because it is creating a small community of people who care about information and presenting it accurately, and are not afraid to point out errors and inconsistencies; because such images often make me stop and think, and have the power to change minds, and maybe even hearts; and because it could encourage politicians and journalists to report with integrity.

Bats

'Bats' doesn't just refer to the government's proposals to sell off our national forests (email your MP here), but to some of the other residents on site.

In July 2007, the previous owner commissioned a protected species survey focusing on the bats within the old farm buildings. Evidence was found of common pipistrelle, brown long-eared and noctule bats in the area, and using the barn as a roost. Therefore, as part of the build, we had to provide a bat loft and bat boxes on site.

The bat loft is in the conversion above the Chapter Room and offices. The 'bat portal', or entrance to the loft, is at present just a missing brick in the east gable, which is a bit of a worry as it could let in rain or small birds. There are five (unless I've missed any) bat boxes, and bats know where they can go, because the boxes have pictures of bats on them.

Anthony has seen bats flitting around the courtyard previously, but on Sunday  found a dead pipistrelle in an out-of-the-way corner of the courtyard. He thought it had been there a while, and had been under the snow, as it was squashed flat. It had probably ventured out all unwary into the December weather, and was killed by the cold.

Forest of Feckenham

Further to yesterday's post, more ruminations on the environmental history and future of Mucknell...

Around the middle of the 12th century, the Forest of Feckenham covered most of Worcestershire - including Bromsgrove, Redditch, Evesham and Pershore - with the village of Feckenham at its centre. The forest was reduced in size after 1300, and had become so small by 1608 that the Crown's survey of forests decided to 'disafforest' it; 21 years later, Feckenham ceased to be a royal forest and reverted to common land.

Now there is a scheme to re-establish the Forest of Feckenham, part of a wider vision for biodiversity in the West Midlands. The scheme's benefits include: flood risk management, water quality and ecological improvements, habitat creation and carbon sequestration. One of the first tasks at Mucknell, while the new monastery was being built, was to plant 8,000 trees on the north side, including oak, hazel and ash - a 'Feckenham Forest mix' for which we received funding from the English Woodland Grant Scheme. The main benefits here, in the terms of the scheme, will be habitat creation and carbon sequestration. But we also hope to coppice the woodland as a fuel source and raw material.

Nature and nurture

It was decidedly January-esque, but a visiting friend and I braved the windchill and undertook a reccie of Croome Park NT. For future reference, we deemed it worthy of more leisurely visits at balmier times of the year. According to the NT leaflet, it "pioneered the English Landscape Style of gardening. This aimed at perfecting nature by creating a landscape as a work of art". And indeed, coming from the church over the brow of the hill, the setting of the house was impressive. The sweep of the drive would have given visitors in their carriages plenty of time to reflect on the wealth and power of the 6th Earl of Coventry. As well as the view of the house, it twists and turns to give views back to the church and along the river to the neo-classical greenhouse.

'Capability' Brown was responsible for the overall design of the estate. I remembered that Jonathan Bate writes about landscape gardening in his excellent book "The Song of the Earth", which I have mentioned before:

"In book three of The Task, [William] Cowper attacks 'Capability' Brown for altering houses and landscapes that had for generations been integrated with their local environment. Brown is presented as a dangerous magician who subverts the course of nature: 'The lake in front becomes a lawn, / Woods vanish, hills subside, and valleys rise.' ... Instead of having a responsible, nurturing relationship to the soil, the improver has a purely aesthetic one. He [sic] regards his estate as a pleasure-garden rather than as land which needs to be managed with care and consideration."

Croome Park looks entirely artificial, from monoculture grassland studded with specimen trees, to the 'river' which is really a long, thin lake, from the haha which prevents a more direct approach to the house, to the Pleasure Ground with its pavilions and monuments and the shrubberies which were planted where village dwellings once stood. But then, there is very little land in England that isn't artificial. Even the uplands of Dartmoor are the product of human use and occupation. Mucknell also will have changed, changed and changed again. It is an obvious thing to write, but we just have to start with the land in the condition it is in, and take the responsibility of nurturing it and managing it with care and consideration.

Time to stand and stare

There is a strip of the kitchen garden that is in the north wall's shadow and gets no sun at this time of year. Yesterday's heavy frost had turned the entire garden white. Most melted away during the day, but at sundown, and again this morning, the strip remained a brilliant contrast against the soil brown.

The day started cloudy, but the sun was out by mid-morning, and it was a joy to go foraging among the piles of willow cords for logs that we could burn in the refectory stove. Later in the afternoon, I had a few minutes spare to stand and watch the birds... or just to stand. The wind had a bit of an enlivening bite to it, but the wintery light soothed my eyes and mind. The sky stayed clear, and gave us a spectacular sunset over the Malverns. It's a starlit night; we'll have another frost.

Leisure, by WH Davies

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

Trials and tribulations

"Hopefully (I keep saying that!) things will be fine now", wrote I yesterday. This morning, we had hot water, but again no heating. Being a bit blurry in the morning, I assumed it was one of the old problems, and only realised that my thermostat display was blank at 7.30am. So I thought I'd wander down to the distribution board, and found that the circuit to the thermostats had tripped. I switched it back on, only for it to trip again after about 20 minutes. The electrician was in the building to do some other work, and tried switching them all off, and on again one by one, and then setting them to call for heat one by one. But it was all working, and still is at the time of writing (hopefully!). Just another of those little mysteries.

I need to go back to writing about my nature observations, rather than the trials and tribulations of the mechanical and electrical system. Unfortunately, the only walk I managed today was to the end of the drive and back to look for a possible external water meter, and the only things I observed were manifold manhole covers. But it was a lovely frosty day.

Sun traps

On Sunday, Ian, Thomas and I briefed most of the rest of the gang regarding what to do in the event of a problem with the biomass boiler (now anthropomorphised by Thomas as Harry the Hargassner).

Stuart was up early on Monday morning, and the first to realise that we had no heating. He dashed round to the boiler house, eager to put his new knowledge into effect, only to find that one of the main heating pumps was leaking copious quantities of water all of the floor, and the pressurisation unit had given up trying to maintain the pressure in the system.

Until tea-time today, then, we have had no central heating or hot water, other than the wood-burning stove in the refectory, a few oil-filled radiators, and what comes out of kettles - the water heater in the kitchen is still also on the blink. Thankfully it has been sunny, so the south-facing rooms have received a lot of passive solar gain. The installers came out on Monday, but couldn't do anything, and the engineer from the pump manufacturers was booked up until this afternoon. But he has fixed it, and hopefully (I keep saying that!) things will be fine now.

It was an incentive to find things to do in the sun, such as weeding, and measuring and cutting carpets on the community building south terrace, which has proved to be a nice sun trap.

Handy map

An Aged Parent suggested that a map might be a handy addition to the Grand Tour, so here is a sort-of one based on the current (i.e. old) Google image. The extent of the grounds is what you'd expect from the boundaries on the image.

Yesterday, I went down to see the pollarders, as they were burning the brash. They and their dogs were very friendly. A perfect day for working outside. The stream had fallen about a foot. Today, Luke and I cut some posts to mark the tarmac drive, so the edges can be seen if and when it snows again, and heavy vehicles don't drive over and damage them. In the sunshine, the snow seems a long time ago now, and it's hard to believe it may happen again.

Shrinking the Footprint

I cycled over to St Edmund's church in Stoulton, to talk to the church wardens about saving energy and renewable energy sources.

There are plenty of reasons why considering energy is a good idea. For example, oil prices are going up, and high and increasing energy bills are wasting the church's money. Investing in renewables, if feasible, could provide a revenue source, and the opportunity to work with the surrounding community on a bulk-buying renewables scheme. Improving the heating would increase the comfort levels for the congregation, and create a better space for community events. And then there is climate change, and climate justice for the developing world. The Church of England has a carbon footprint the size of Sainsbury's. It also has a Shrinking the Footprint campaign and targets for reducing emissions: by 42% reduction by 2020, and by 80% by 2050. Most of the carbon emissions from churches are from space heating and lighting, so addressing these helps to address climate change.

Dioceses have their own manifestations of the Shrinking the Footprint campaign. Worcester Diocese has an Environmental Strategy, but as yet I have only skim-read it, so can't comment. During 2009-10, I spent ten months working with Martyn Goss on the campaign in the Diocese of Exeter. If any are interested, we set up a jolly good website which provides lots of information for churches thinking about energy and the environment, and some case studies of churches which have already taken action.

I cycled up to Stoulton in the fog, and returned in the sunshine.

Tohu wabohu

It might seem a bit odd, if you know it, but Psalm 107 is one of my favourite psalms. It's the way it combines vivid descriptions in the first part of people released from distress - I am always particularly struck by the description of the sailors tossed about in the storm and coming safe at last into haven - with a wisdom hymn in the second part that has many parallels with other wisdom literature, not least the Magnificat. Reading a commentary on the psalm, I was taken back seven years to my Certificate in Theology and my first exegesis, of Genesis 1:1-3. The commentary stated that 'trackless wastes' in v.40 is a translation (in both the RSV and NRSV) of the Hebrew word tohu,and referenced the phrase tohu wabohu of Genesis 1:2 - 'formless void' or 'primeval Chaos' - marvellous!!

Coincidentally, 'primeval Chaos' is also a good description of the weather over the last 24 hours, of louring skies, and shrieking winds battering diffident rain against the windows.

Grand Tour

Three of the Sisters of the Church came to visit today. They do amazing things at their house at Bristol with the Five Loaves and Two Fishes project and other work. I subjected them to the Tour. Join us on our way...

• to the wood chip store and boiler shed; 
• across the mud to the biodigester, House at Poo Corner, and the swales; 
• along the footpath around the western edge to the south side; 
• past the small patch left without mowing to grow wild; 
• along the southern fence, where a series of specimen trees have been planted, and a hedge is soon to join them up; 
• past the gaps where our gates used to be (grrr); 
• along the eastern edge of the Cut to the pond and Garden Pavilion

... pause for scraping mud off boots ...

• through the kitchen garden and maintenance yard; 
• up the bank to a view over the garth and the front door of the Abbey to the north, and the tree-planting to the south; 
• down the hill to Electricity Corner and the stream; 
• along the stream through the clearings-to-be (when the trees have grown), pausing at the tumble-down bridge and the buzzard's nest tree; 
• cutting across before we reach the solitary oak, and up and down and up and down the ridge and furrow; 
• and back up the drive to the bootscraper and the South Link.

And if you would like to know where all of these places are, I have created a handy map.

A new Alongsider, Luke, arrived today, as did the fruit trees. John 15:1-8 springs to mind - may they both bear much fruit.

Catching the wind

Hoicking my wellies on after None, I speed-walked around the site, slowing only for mud, taking photos, puzzling over why one of the tree supports had a pink blob on it, poking a stick in the high and murky stream to see how deep it was, and wondering whether some of the vegetative debris should be cleared away at the bit where the fence crosses it and back. The southwesterlies were forming ripples on the pond, bending the wave patterns around the small island and recombining them in a nice example of interference.

And then I flew my kite, for the first time in months, perhaps in years. I met with abject failure in Broad Marston, largely because there were electricity cables running across the field behind the house, which forced me to stand towards the edge. There wasn't really enough wind anyway, and there certainly wasn't enough fetch; I was in the wind shadow from trees, and what little wind there was was too turbulent. So the last flying time I remember was at Big Sand beach near Gairloch, looking over the sea to Skye and Lewis. Today was a perfect day for it: just the right windspeed, blue sky and scudding clouds, and the sun behind me (there have been better weather forecasts). Only one unintentional crash, but that and then the final splashdown meant that it all got a bit muddy. Well, I should be used to that by now!

Orchard

Continuing the theme of trees, I finished making 32 guards for the fruit trees due to be delivered on Saturday (without banging any of my thumbs with the hammer). Unfortunately, we haven't yet marked out the orchard, let alone dug the holes, so the trees will have to be heeled in for a few days. We're going to be planting comfrey under the trees, as a natural fertiliser. This has very deep roots, and will draw up nutrients from deep down in the soil. You can harvest and compost it into a foul-smelling but nutrient-rich liquid fertiliser ('comfrey tea'), but we're planning just to cut and leave it in situ to rot down around the trees. There are two beneficial side-effects: comfrey makes excellent bee food, and the deep roots should help to break up the soil, which is extremely compacted; all you can see of the orchard at the moment is an expanse of quaggy subsoil.

Pollarding

On Monday and Tuesday the tree pollarders were hard at work on the willows by the stream. These had clearly had been pollarded before, but not for some years. They've produced quite a few cords and a lot of sweepings. The sweepings they are intending to burn, but perhaps everything was too damp today. I'm not sure what we're going to do with the cords. It might be possible to sell it for chipping into woodchip fuel, but it may not be suitable; willow has a high moisture content, although this wood might be OK because it is older. Now at a distance, the cut ends shine orange among the greyness of the other winter vegetation.

But soft, what light?

At tea-time, Ian and I joined Philip on the balcony outside the community room - the Railway Children reunited - and watched the sunset over the Malverns. The sunsets won't be the same in the summer; in June, the sun will set almost in the NW, and at around our bed-time! It was still and mild enough to stay leaning on the railing for a while, drinking tea, and discussing the potential of the balcony for papal or abbatial announcements, rock concerts and plays (Romeo and Juliet the obvious candidate).

Anthony also pointed out an owl pellet on the balcony, with its tell-tale bits of bone and fur. And - excitement upon excitement! - I found a thick, juicy worm in the kitchen garden while I was weeding! We thought we would have to buy some, but maybe there are worm cocoons in the soil just waiting for the bit of warmth to hatch. The forecast from tomorrow until Saturday is heavy rain, rain, rain and heavy rain. It looks as though there'll be time to spend in the greenhouse making tree guards.

Bees on their knees

Avaaz currently has a petition calling on US and EU decision-makers to ban the use of neonicotinoid pesticides immediately, until and unless new independent scientific studies prove they are safe. Bee colonies are crashing, and it is not clear why, but Avaaz say that "Four European countries have begun banning the poisons [sic] and bee populations are recovering."

Einstein is widely quoted as saying "If the bee disappears from the surface of the earth, man would have no more than four years to live." Presumably 'woman' would be fine, but leaving that aside, he probably didn't say it at all. Nevertheless, a Guardian article about a week ago says: "It is estimated that a third of everything we eat depends upon pollination by bees, which means they contribute some £26bn to the global economy", and gives the alarming statistic: "The abundance of four common species of bumblebee in the US has dropped by 96% in just the past few decades." It is not clear why, but scientists think it is from a combination of factors: a reduction in genetic diversity; parasites such as the bloodsucking varroa mite and viral and bacterial infections; pesticides; changing habitats around cities; and poor nutrition stemming from intensive farming methods.

So, even if these neonicotinoid pesticides were not responsible for the whole of the decline, it makes sense to ban them and continue studying their effects, while looking into ways of combatting the other factors. My brother is a researcher in mathematical biology at Royal Holloway, and is contributing mathematical modelling to a project looking at emergent diseases among insect pollinators.The Benedictines and other religious have along history of keeping bees, and have even developed new disease-resistant strains. It is something we may consider at some point in the future, but we will need to know what we are doing, or we could contribute to the problem. In the meantime, please consider signing the petition.

Tares

A lovely day of sunshine, and it's amazing how much the energy levels go up. So I spent half of the afternoon weeding in the kitchen garden. A couple of the loads of imported alluvial soil can't have been properly treated, as they are now vibrant green with annual and nefarious weeds, mostly chickweed, with some thistle, pineapple weed, dock, nettle, etc etc. Temperatures are nudging towards 6 °C and the start of the growing season, so it's time to get on top of them. And we need the bed to heel in the fruit trees, which are arriving next week, and the holes in the orchard not yet dug. It's good to be back working outside.

On the down side, the two gates down at the southern edge, together with their substantial gate posts, have been stolen. The gates are not easy to get to, down muddy tracks around a couple of fields. The culprits left the wire fence tidily rolled back. They must have cased the joint, known about them from online publication of local government minutes, or something. But, why? Some people!

Worcester

A free day, so a trip on the bus to explore Worcester. I dislike most shopping, but managed to find a belt and shoes, locate three outdoor shops and a couple of second-hand book shops: Oxfam of course, and a shop called Snowdrops which sends the proceeds to a local hospice. I prefer Exeter Cathedral for its creamy stone, the space and the light. But Worcester Cathedral has a better class of tomb - notably Prince Arthur's chantry chapel - and a wonderful Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament in the crypt. There was no sign that I could see of the peregrine up on St Andrew's spire, but down by the quay there were dozens of swans, mallards and black-headed gulls in their white-headed winter plumage, attracted by people throwing cotton wool bread of no nutritional value.

I returned to blue sky overhead, and low evening sunlight on the ridge and furrow. A short walk down to the tumble-down bridge led me to consider possible bench placements under the buzzard's tree. There was no sign of the buzzard either, and I haven't seen it for a while. There is a droll line of molehills leading straight uphill from the stream towards the sheep-watering tap. My guess is that the tap or pipe may have a small leak which the moles traced. The sunset over the Malverns was understated, accompanied by cumulus in the east, dark grey below and apricot blush in the sun, and a sliver of moon. I stood and watched as the sun dipped into line of cloud just above the hills, fired the edges and faded.

Previously at Mucknell Abbey...

Today started off very wet, which meant the rainwater tank filled up nicely, but didn't particularly draw me outside. So...

Yesterday, on the other hand, was an excellent day of rather splendid cloud formations and even some sunshine. Bredon did its fairly convincing impression of Avalon, swimming in the mist, with a thick band of framing bright white. Arching overhead was a thin grey streak, too grey for a contrail, too long for an engine on fire. Later, the Malverns were dwarfed by a spectaular smörgåsbord of cirrus, cirrocumulus, maybe some cumulus/stratocumulus over to the left, lenitcular altocumulus on the right. I know some folk who would be able to understand this sky, and know what the weather has just been and what is likely to happen, but I just like watching it.

And on Tuesday, I introduced the newly-arrived Mary Teresa to the various sights and the mud. We found the swales still mostly frozen over, except by the banks. But near the edge of the ice were a series of small circular holes, with surrounding veins like bloodshot eyes. Must ask Anthony if he has any ideas what would have formed them...

Excerpts

The Mucknell Martyrology describes the seasonal origin of the Feast of the Epiphany:

"The date chosen to celebrate [the Epiphany] goes back to the placing of the feast of the Nativity of Christ in the winter solstice: the north European pre-Christian tradition of celebrating the birth of the Sun on 25 December differed from the Mediterranean and eastern tradition of having 6 January as the Solstice. As often happens, the two dates merged into a beginning and end of the same celebration. The western Church adopted 'the twelve days of Christmas' climaxing on the eve of Epiphany, or 'Twelfth Night'. The implication by the fifth century was that this was the night on which the Magi arrived, and this day remains the chief day for celebrating the Incarnation for the Orthodox churches."

And indeed, the Magi made it to the crib, but it was touch and go whether they'd get through the West Bank checkpoints in time. thegirltryingtochangetheworld, who works for Christian Aid Southwest and who I know from Exeter, has recently visited the Holy Land, and this week is blogging some of her thoughts and stories. It's well worth a read:

"I stood by the huge concrete separation barrier which cuts the area [around Bethlehem] into dead, soulless ghettos, I spoke to inn keepers and shop keepers who are slowly getting back on their feet, I realised that the Wise Men from the East would never have made it to the manger without digging a tunnel..."

Word of the day

I've got a small list of interesting words, and judging by the contents, by 'interesting' I seem to mean 'three or more syllables and had to look up in the dictionary to be sure of the meaning'. Unfortunately, I didn't note where I read them, so now can't give the context. But here's one:

depauperate (di'pȯpərət)
adj 1. (of a flora, fauna, or ecosystem) Lacking in numbers or variety of species; having a limited biodiversity; impoverished. 2. (of a plant or animal) Imperfectly developed; having stunted growth.
vb 1. To impoverish. 2. To stunt the growth of.
First used in the 15th century from Latin de- + pauperare to impoverish, from pauper poor.

Meanwhile, Google Maps is still showing Mucknell in its depauperate state (you might need to click on Satellite). And when I put "Google" through the MS Word spell checker, it suggested "Go ogle", which I suppose is Microsoft's little revenge.

Stargazing

Two astronomy-related stories - the first partial solar eclipse of 2011, and 'dark sky tourism'. "When you can see the Milky Way, that's a good definition of having a dark sky". I haven't seen the Milky Way often, and it's usually been in Scotland. One memorable occasion was on the tip of the Trotternish peninsula on Skye, waking at 2am and stepping outside the caravan to see the sky laid open before me, and my so-far-one-and-only shooting star. Another was with a group of people on Iona, walking beyond the lights of the village, and lying in the middle of the road. (No we hadn't been drinking!) At Mucknell, by contrast, I'm saddened to see the brightness of the sodium glare over Worcester. Let's hope the future isn't quite as orange.

The magi didn't have to contend with such technological fall-out. They have now set out on their journey to the crib, and have reached the East Link: "In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, magi from the East Link came to Jerusalem" (Matt 2.1; NRSV slightly adapted!).

Stop press

I am doing the intercessions at the Eucharist this week, and was checking the BBC site for the latest news stories. It's pretty shocking how many stories are related to adverse weather causing damage and devastation to peoples' lives:

• flooding in Queensland
• extreme cold and snow in northern India
• tornadoes in mid-western United States
• heavy rain and landslides in the Philippines
• continued disruptions to water supply in Northern Ireland

And RIP Pete Postlethwaite, a great actor and a political activist who marched against the Iraq war, supported Make Poverty History and starred in "The Age of Stupid", the film about global warming: looking back from a devastated future world in 2055, why didn’t we stop climate change when we had the chance?

Mud and mounds

Now that everything has thawed, going for a walk again involves large quantities of mud on my wellies. The trick is to plough through the mud at the start, try to wipe it off on the grass during the walk, and find a path across grass instead of bare earth back to the drive and thence to the house. Some of the sown grass has bravely started to grow, outside the guest sitting room and in the cut. Soon the roots will be binding together into a matting and hopefully mud will be a thing of the past.

I walked down to the far north-east of the grounds, where the electricity supply comes in overground to a small pylon and plunges underground - hence named (by me) Electricity Corner. A mole, or family, has been busy creating fresh mounds. Some are right next to the tree guards. A quick google tells me that 1) moles do eat tree roots; or 2) moles don't eat tree roots, but may be followed down the tunnels by voles or rats, which do eat tree roots. I had a look in some of the guards, and the trees mostly seem to be twigs at best. But I expect they're OK; one or two had plenteous healthy-looking buds.

The stream is running quite high, possibly with melt-water still draining through the fields, and it is making a pleasing gurgling under the tumble-down bridge. At a distance, some of the smaller trees look as though they are covered in yellow lichen, but close to, it resolves into etiolated mistletoe.

2011

Happy New Year or Seasonal Affective Disorder? Another health issue related to the weather, this time gloomy weather during winter and mental health. The Met Office was trialling a service for people who suffer from SAD, but I don't know whether there are any plans to roll it out following the last winter's trials in Cornwall and Berkshire.

Today was a perfect SAD trigger - very grey and louring all day, though fairly mild at 6-7 °C or so. I needed to get outside, so circumnavigated the grounds with Ian. It didn't feel quite as mild when we were in the far corner, and it started drizzling, and the drizzle felt icy and the grey clouds looked very grey. The pond is still frozen on the surface, except around the edge, and the swales are probably similar. In the morning, a heron stood hunched down by the swales for quite some time. It must be desperate for any food it can find in this season.