Through a windscreen darkly

At this time of year, and at a certain time of day (say around 7 o'clock in the morning) there is often a wonderful effect. Ground mist clings to the lower lying land, with trees poking through into clear air, and the rising sun shines on it all amidst gorgeously painted clouds of orange, yellow, purple, red and skies of clear, pale blue. It's a wonderful sight, fully compensating for the fact it is only 7 o'clock and freezing!

On our way to work each day we get a particularly nice view over the Vale of York as we come down the hill. And over the last couple of weeks we have had this experience of sunrise-on-ground-mist quite a few times. So when it was a foggy start recently I decided to take the camera along to see what I could capture through the windscreen of the car.

As we started off it was pretty foggy.

The end of the lane got closer and we thought we could see something

Yes, the farmhouse at the Beansheaf! We were going the right way.

Further on it began to lift a little and I held onto the hope that I would get the shot I wanted. Here are some lorries emerging from the dark and fog.

But this is my gorgeous view!

On a clear day it is much nicer - try and add in the ground mist and sunrise for yourself...

Catching up

The irony of a vibrant village community is that it's harder to find the time to post blogs about it. Fancy being too busy with life to waste time on yon t'Interweb!

First of all, we did Halloween stuff. I didn't write it up before the bonfire night post last time. Here is our pumpkin this year. A pumpkin in the window indicates to everyone that you are at home for trick or treat.

In the village you tend to know which particular small witches, werewolves and skeletons will be calling on you, each taking with great seriousness and thoughtful consideration only one sweet from the cavernous depths of the proffered tin, then a cautious second when prompted. Bless!

Meanwhile, the Village Hall is always in need of additional funds (hint - donations can be made through Paypal!) so various people try to come up with ideas to help us raise some cash and have fun at the same time. Recently some neighbours had a very good idea indeed; they cooked a Spanish meal for a small groups of people (12 plus themselves) and charged a ticket entry. Those of us who managed to get tickets had a wonderful evening being wined and dined on a fantastic selection of dishes from tapas starters to home made ice cream desserts. Delicious! (For those of you on Facebook, there are pictures in the Kirby Misperton People group).

Next month it's sausages from around the world. Really. It would seem there are many varieties, including vegetarian. In my personal experience, vegetarian sausages usually fool meat-eaters anyway. In fact, I'm not sure why sausages aren't all vegetarian to begin with. It would seem more honest. Maybe that's just me.

In other thrilling news the council has resurfaced the road. As for the pavements, these are still slippery with leaf mould and pitted with more cavities than Augustus Gloop's teeth. However, the road is lovely with shiny new white lines by the roundabout and everything.

What a wonderful world.

Traditions

The last three nights have been taken over by fireworks. Here in Kirby Misperton, as elsewhere in the country, household pets have hidden behind the sofa while the humans engage in certain madness.

I didn't get to any firework parties this year, which was a shame. I like to "Ooh" and "Ahh" in the cold and damp, squinting through my clouded breath to see the brilliant splinters of colour and showers of golden rain. This year, Guy Fawkes' Night fell on a Thursday and there have been 3 solid nights (possibly even a 4th tonight) of spectacular explosions.

Don't get me wrong - if I was a Catholic I might take a different view. But I do love the fireworks. Not so keen on chucking effigies on bonfires though.

On Thursday night I was waiting for a lift home after a session working late. It was about 7.30-8.00 and the moon was out, shining through the branches of the trees. Everything was very quiet and rather pretty and silvery. Then suddenly I heard the sound of a giant wrestling tin foil and the sky lit up with jewels. I could hear delighted, shrieking children and smell that smell - you know the one you get on bonfire night, gunpowder and anticipation, mixed with potato skins burnt in the fire and sparklers singeing woollen gloves. I was whisked back to being very small, looking through my grandma's heavy winter curtains at all the lights in the sky.

So much for a bit of nostalgia. On Saturday it changed into something else. We spent the early evening driving back from Lancaster along the A59, passing various towns and villages on the way. (if ever you take this road, go to Pendleton for a pub lunch). For the whole of the route we saw bonfires and firework displays. It really hit home to me that this is something we do everywhere in the country. Huge numbers of us at around the same time are standing in the cold and often the rain, shivering a little, cricking our necks to look up at the sky. As we drove through the dark countryside we could see pockets of habitation miles ahead because of the fireworks - like King Edwin's sparrow, we flew through great stretches of darkness interspersed with sudden flashes of light and warmth and life.

We have been doing this around this time of year since before the Romans came. Guy Fawkes is a convenient excuse to retain the old ways, lighting the fires, keeping in touch with the earth and seasons and passage of time.

Now it's really winter and we can look forward to spending time with neighbours in warmth and cheer, while the rain rattles on the glass and wind yells down the chimney. At this time of year we draw closer together, in this village, with these friends, instinctively marking the change in the calendar.

A belated happy Samhain to you all.