This was the view across Ellesmere as daylight faded to twilight. The Mere looked spectacular as it shimmered in the moonlight.


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Much of the snow lay unspoilt other than the footprints of grazing sheep or a fox tempting fate on the ice as it crossed the canal. Resident Barn owls hunt most evenings and call from amongst the trees late into the night.


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Until the big melt a mecca for sledging enthusiasts.
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The snow covered views between where we're moored here, at Tetchill, and Lower Frankton have been something to behold, especially in the late afternoon sun of the last week. The changing light, colours and settings while out walking Gunner as dusk falls means the phone camera is rarely idle and on arriving back at the boat I'm left with the job of deciding which to keep and those to delete, with very little between many other than the subtlety of a slight colour change as the light continues to fade. I wish I could keep them all, but common sense dictates. otherwise. I just hope that those of you looking in enjoy them as much as we do. Living on 'wilvir', in the midst of the changing seasons and experiencing this very simple way of life is a privilege. The furore of recent weeks brought about by the impact of snow, ice and arctic temperatures on 'modern' living passed us by in all its scenic serenity with hardly a murmur (outside the boat it dropped to -16c at its lowest). The local coal merchant was kind enough to bring us a welcome delivery even though the road leading to the bridge nearest to us was snowbound. Over the last couple of days the snow has completely dissapeared under the onslaught of wind, rain and a rapid rise in temperature. It's great not to have to deal with the slush of a slow thaw.
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Photo:
1,2&3. A walk in the snow.


We woke this morning to the sound of the boat grating against ice as I put a log on the woodburner to throw out some more heat after its overnight slumber keeping the boat warm. I tugged on some clothes, put the kettle on the stove and turned the radio on, pulling the curtains back as I went, before finally letting Gunner off the boat for his morning sortie accompanied by me armed with a trowel. The other member of the crew only leaves the warmth of the bed when the kettle whistles for attention and the hint of a cup of tea. So begins another day and what a beautiful if somewhat chilly one it is too. The ice, about 3/4 inch thick, truly has us locked in having crept up on us overnight and probably has the whole length of the canal in its grip now. Robins, Bluetits, Chaffinches, Blackbirds and Coaltits are already busy feeding on the peanuts and assorted seeds in the three feeders we've hung in the trees bordering the towpath and seeing off newcomers foraging for freebies on the ground. The sun is even warming enough to raise water vapour from the external surfaces of the boat and smoke from the woodburner chimney is lazily curling away on the slightest of breezes. Time for a cuppa!



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Photo:
1. The ice was creeping up on us last evening.
2. This morning.
3. The view from the galley this afternoon.
4. Sundown (just stunning)

Hi Wendy, good to hear from you.
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Yesterday morning we became concerned for the wellbeing of a Skipper and his dog aboard their nb 'Joanna' and reported the matter to the police. Yesterday afternoon we were informed that they had found he had died onboard and his dog had been taken to a rescue centre. Today I walked past 'Joanna' in the late afternoon sun with Gunner and felt a real sadness at seeing the boat lifeless on its mooring. Regardless of the circumstances leading up to his death noone deserves to leave this life in the manner in which he did. I know he had a problem with the boats engine because he told me so. When I offered to look at it for him with a view to fixing it so that he would at least have power, he assured me that someone was helping him out although they had yet to get back to him. How true that is I have no idea, but in the days we were moored there and having recently returned to moor a mile or so west of him we never once saw or heard the engine running, or welcoming signs of smoke from his chimney or any lights at night. So we have been left with an image of his final days that has greatly upset us both and brought Ginny to tears. A sad and too lonely an end for a Skipper and his faithful friend. RiP Sir.
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Photo:
1. Christmas 'Morn'.
2. A steam powered 'Pop-Pop' Boat (Little Wilvir) from Hannah & Neve.
3. Tuck-in!
4. A beautiful end to Christmas Day.

Our traditional Christmas afloat is always a joy even if we aren't physically together as a family. Photos of the Grandchildren fly through the ether via phones and email keeping us informed of 'goings on' on near enough a daily basis. The Post Office provides a unique 'Poste Restante' mail service for those of us with no fixed abode too. So all-in-all we couldn't be more in touch when the need arises.

Jackie, Trish, Tess, Kath, Debbie and Mark have also been in touch in recent weeks, which brings a smile to our faces knowing that everyone is OK. Jackie continues to stick two fingers up to adversity as she recovers from surgery that would have floored many people in more ways than one, so our best wishes for her continued recovery.

Jim & Helen (narrowboat 'Val') came by horseless carriage to wish us a Merry Christmas last Sunday and spent the afternoon with us tucking into a pre Christmas roast and a lemon meringue pie to die for, which I went to great pains to point out was my regular Sunday treat and they were extremely priviliged to get any! Another afternoon spent in the company of great friends and a couple of bottles of 'red'.

We also had a surprise 'Skype' call from Martin Austin (Mostin), an old colleague from our RAF days, who is currently working in North Carolina. Jen and Mark, from Australia, who we met this year on one of their 'exchange' holidays, sent a festive email with the news that they'll be visiting relatives in the UK again in 2010 and holidaying on their 'exchange' narrowboat, so we'll be arranging to meet somewhere nearer the time. Moira and Mike living aboard their narrowboat 'Blue Toad' will be selling up and departing these shores in the spring to return to their home in Tasmania so we wish them 'Bon Voyage'.

More to come.
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