Another brief post to record that this year’s Christmas weather was unusually benign. It had me trawling through past blog notes, which confirmed that it was indeed our best ever – for lovely light and lack of rain, if not warm temperatures.

Four days of sunshine, glorious views and skyscapes, and the added bonus of the strong winds on Christmas Eve night taking out our land line. Exactly what we needed for a truly peaceful, stepping back in time.

An early Christmas Day walk at Sifigwm forest, just up the hill from us, was bitterly cold, but it blew away all the cobwebs and gave us a good appetite.

For a nation’s politicians to contemplate destroying all this with 750 feet high turbines, is beyond belief. Except in today’s world, of course, it isn’t. The kulaks are never valued until they’re all gone.

A cheerful, but chilly Christmas robin posed for me after we’d returned to the warmth of the car. Even our usually photo-averse corvids seemed more relaxed with this change in weather fortunes.

Inevitably with such a winter high-pressure system, the winds came from the East/North East, which meant no repeat of sitting out for Christmas meals, as last year. However, the frosts that accompanied the clear night skies, littered with stars, were very mild. But still the right conditions for some special frost beards/ice hair.

 

A wonderful end to 2025’s roller coaster weather, and my spirits have been lifted accordingly, which meant I managed to rough out a half-poem about the near-death experience of ‘Jetfire’, which I outlined in my last post. I also sneaked a couple of good portraits of her, which Fiona has gamely agreed to turn into one of her pastel paintings in due course.

The trigger was me thinking about just how many meanings and usages there are for the simple word ‘cast’.

 

Cast

A curious tale – words cast adrift,

To sketch the grey dawn scene in black

And white. Red robin notes, sweet draw:

I wandered out, glanced down and back

 

The flock tight-knit. I double-count,

Hone in on black-topped mound, adrift.

Ignored. No sounds. No hint of motion,

Shouting: SHEEP! Tired brain gear-shifts.

 

Grabbed lens, zoomed view, worst fears confirmed:

Black belly, legs, huge off-white fleece.

Cold cast: down-up, inverted ewe.

Lifeless aberration, deceased.         But wait!

 

One slightest jerk of stretched-back head!

Hope thrills my desperate downhill race.

Must beat the swooping crow;

Scare slinking, rusting fox, who’s crashed this space.

 

How odd, one thinks, until you try –

Stuck thus, can’t roll, uncast that die.

Four upright fixed-plane limbs no use

To fleece-held limpet, back-cast fly.

 

She’s calm: no panic as I near.

My single hand, pulled gentle roll.

Such simple, vital aid. She struggles,

Staggers like some newborn foal.

 

Defacing tags, unique I.D:

Zero, zero, one, one, zero

State defined: blank binary being,

Bland for heroine or hero.

 

We know she’s more: young life,

Game TV star. Cast leading “Jetfire”.

Loved kempy-badger, precious beast

With simple hates and few desires.

 

An Advent treat – her life, now spared

To cheer these coming New Year days.

Will she deliver life herself,

And pass on tawny-eye gaze ways?

 

29/12/2025

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As a final featured piece of music, as 2025 bows out, I’m including a live recording of the fourth of Richard Strauss’s ‘Last 4 Songs’, composed in 1948. A finale for Strauss himself, as he approached death at the age of 85. First performed, after he died, in 1950 at The Albert Hall, with his preferred choice of soprano, the Norwegian Kirsten Flagstad. Much interesting background on the story behind these beautiful songs can be found by clicking here.

Here it is sung by the Lithuanian/American Asmik Gregorian, with the Vienna Philharmonic orchestra conducted by Gustavo Dudamel. The last of the songs, ‘Im Abendrot’ – ‘At sunset’, is based on a short poem by the German Joseph von Eichendorff. Listen out for the 2 larks (flutes, then piccolos) mentioned in the middle verses, in this English translation.

Around us, the valleys bow,
the air already darkens.
Only two larks soar
musingly into the haze.

Come close, and let them flutter,
soon it will be time to sleep
so that we don’t get lost
in this solitude.

What a moving performance and appreciative audience, who allowed time for performer reflection, at its end. The camera angles to catch this emotional end to a most moving piece of musical drama are superb. When did I last count 15 seconds between the last note, and the beginning of the applause?

Probably never.

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Happy New Year.