Sunday, March 7th. Malcolm and I go for a walk in the Aude, near Limoux. The day is full of the promise of spring, bright and sunny. The almond blossom is out. We spot baby lizards darting along stone walls, and enjoy watching more lizards sunning themselves on the rocky ledge where we have our midday picnic.
Monday, March 8th. We wake up to snow. And more snow. It was snowing as we got up, and it continues to snow, hour after hour. We watch the flowerpots in the yard as their hats of snow become taller and taller. By mid-afternoon, they’re 24 cm. high, and by 7 o’clock, as it begins to get dark, they’re about 28 cm. high. Up on the roof, the icicles become stouter and as long as the snow is deep. The trees stand stiff and silent under their heavy bonnets of snow. The snow continues to fall as we close the shutters at nightfall. TV news reminds us that we’ve has it easy – look at the deep drifts, and hundreds of stranded lorries backed up in the Pyrénées Orientales!
Today, Tuesday March 9th – no more snow falling- but it’s not ready to melt either. The wind snatches the snow from the trees, and when we leave the house, slaps our faces with flurries of flakes whipped from the rooftops. The birds are constantly busy at our ‘Resto du Coeur’, and we replenish their feeders several times. Gym? Cancelled. Choir? Cancelled
As I still haven’t got my camera, the snowy photos on this blog come to you courtesy of my friend Marianne, who’s been busy with her camera as she and Réglisse, her dog, slip and skate round the chilly streets of le Peyrat, just down the road from Laroque. Thanks, Marianne!
Suddenly, earlier today, I remembered this ditty the children and I used to chant when they were small:
Whether the weather be cold,
Or whether the weather be hot
We’ll weather the weather
Whatever the weather
Whether we like it or not