The long slow climb

Spring is already arriving back in Britain, at least in the southern part of England and Wales, where they have snowdrops already.

(Aimee said "what's a snowdrop?" The picture above is a snowdrop. A snowdrop is a very small white lily that blooms in very early spring, and is beloved in Britain for its simple beauty, and because it means winter is nearly done.)

Oh, snowdrops....

I miss snowdrops so much I could cry and maybe will right now.

Considering that they're 10 degrees of latitude further north than we are, this is a major testimonial to the Gulf Stream.

Go Gulf Stream. Yea!!! And such good countryside planning by those clever Brits, to put in an entire-country underfloor heating system.

As for us poor frozen Mainers, well....

The real cold Canadian arctic weather of a week or so ago left us, thankfully. We had one warm day followed by a big storm of a foot and a half, and we are now in our stable late January/most-of-February pattern of bright days, crisp clear nights, and a storm every two-three weeks. Winds are variable, but when they're light, the suns rays do their job and it is nice in the afternoons, although you need to keep your hat and gloves close and layer up.

The mornings are frigid. Our poor moulty hen hasn't fallen off her perch yet, although she seems to have adapted by burrowing into the hay. The other afternoon when it was windy out and as a result quite cold, I found her sitting in a shaft of warm sunlight inside the barn. Poor hen. But if she made it through the worst, she'll make it through the rest. And she wants to be with her sisters.

This weather is harsh on hens and humans, but can be quite tolerably nice if you have the time to get outside and snowshoe, ski or hike.

Which last requires post-holing around in the deep snow we now have, but you can get good exercise that way too.

Now if I could just get an afternoon off! After a week of our regular 10-12 hour days, I had to work all weekend, while Aimee had to put in a Saturday, and a lot of homework Sunday. I will be working very late tonight, so I'm feeling very sorry for myself.

This feeling relieves itself in two ways.

One is pure Yorkshire piss-and-vinegar for some of our work colleagues who can be super-smug about having time to exercise and rest. There's a bit of a smell of burning martyr about this, I know, but our college administration still hasn't figured out what to do about the 70/30 hour-week disparity, the one between the workload they assign to administratively competent faculty and the workload they assign to the less competent. My resentment only goes so far, and manifests itself more when I'm tired. The college is in a big curriculum revision, long overdue, and Aimee and I find ourselves at the center of things. We both want to see the curriculum revised, so we have to put in the work. It's an investment for the future, even if the workload disparity created is patently unfair.

The other manifestation is longing for a nice long late winter/early spring walk in the muddy, but relatively snow-free British countryside.

I'll take mine with snowdrops, please.