The Feast of Stephen

Sharply colder today after the mildness of Christmas.  I forgot to mention with regard to our light feasting that one thing I love about Christmas is our seasonal use of china and cutlery.  A mish-mash collection of Victorian oddments, heavy tureens and serving dishes, large silver spoons and weighty engraved forks.  None of it has cost us more than a pound or so and most we have picked up for pennies; unfashionable, out-dated, cumbersome table equipment.  But full of stories, history, possibilities.  

A cold clear night, minus three in the courtyard just now, a clear, distant scattering of stars. Boxing Day is a more relaxed time than Christmas Day, a leftovers day, a walking day, a sports day.  We went to the Mortimer Forest near Ludlow this morning, somewhere we have visited briefly but never explored.  Some fine stands of silver birch, dense fir plantations, and very tall pines left for the drama.  We were reminded of Delamere Forest - a Christmas memory - and I loved the darkness between the trees, the sense of ancient menacing fairy tale woods.  I would rather see more open woodland, but even in a Forestry Commission wood there can be magic.

And a day of preparations.  Tomorrow we go up north to see family, the first of our winter journeys.  Clothes packing, car cleaning, present sorting.  There is something I find attractive about journeys in winter but I don't know what it is; I will give the idea more thought.