On a quiet, cold walk by the Mur in Tamsweg, we suddenly noticed the river filling with ice and the level rising. We guessed a dam of ice had burst upstream, it was spectacular. The photos don’t really do justice to the nose and flow. I rushed home to see what it was all like by the bend in the river by our house. It must have broken up by then as it wasn’t anything like. Any of you got some ice photos?
We’ve had a warm, wet summer, in fact a normal summer. As you know, I love to follow the farming season.
This year, there has been loads of grass, and some fields have been cut three times. I was surprised when farmers cut a couple of weeks ago.
Now we have a bit of sunshine, they’re at it again. Surely there can’t be much nutrition in it? Snow is forecast on Sunday, so there has been much scurrying around with bakers today.
How late do you cut in your part of the world?
I know they’re not!
Dave and I were watching an Abbie Barns Film on YouTube of a walk in Cornwall. On it came shots of a bluebell wood and luxuriant green grass filled with wildflowers. I breathed an ‘oooh’, we’ll be seeing them again soon’. It made me realise how when in the past I’ve seen such shots I’ve just sort of dismissed and squashed such yearnings.
I’ve always missed the richness of the English countryside, up here in the mountains, it’s more sparse, short lived – except for the dandelions in May. How many things do you repress when there is a longing for them?
So in a year or so, we’ll be back in the green, of daffodils and pink cherry blossom. It’s like some sort of floodgates is opened. For Saturday newspapers and Dairy milk chocolate. Daffodils in February.
How long will the thrill last?
Then we got into a conversation about walking with no struggling up steep gradients, tractor and steam rallies, horse shows, National Trusting, not to mention beaches. If you’re not into skiing and have to work hard through summer, there’s not a lot to do here. But how long till we miss the smell of hot pinewood and the pink of the mountain rhododendron on the hills in early summer?
A powerstation or kraftwerk is going to be built in the field below our house. On the spot in this picture,you can see our sitting room window through the trees.
We were invited to a meeting to convince us that no one will hear the turbine. Then we all met in the field site.
Now I must eat my words! I’ve always said there should be small power stations on rivers, imagining a rustic looking shed with a little turbine. This will run from a pond further up the valley, with a pipe running down the road and dropping to us, where the turbine will be.
Apparently all the landowners have agreed, so it’s as good as settled, however much we may protest. They’re onto a nice earner.
There is an industrial precedent here, this is the old weir in the field that used to run to fill the water conduit for the old paper mill.
With a heavy heart, there is nothing we can do. If this was the UK, we could probably claim compensation for noise and loss in value of our house! They said my water meter reading job remains, but I am doubtful.
Poor Thomatalbach, what will happen when we have a dry summer or what will be the effect on the eco system?
A heartwarming story, free from Friday 23rd until Monday 26th. Some of this happened to me when we had a small holding!
Left alone on the farm to cope with a sick baby, what will Jenny do when there is an emergency? Plus an excerpt from The Baize Door, where Joanna sees for the first time how horses interact with us.
Writing - Sharing Tips
Exploring the twists and turns of Marie's mind and travels since 2013
The world is best viewed through the ears of a horse.
Living the Dream and the Reality of Keeping Horses at Home
Book Reviews by Emma b Books
