Frost called

And it wasn’t the inspector… Last night, the temperature dropped to -8°C (16°F). Everything turned silvery for a day.

Well, almost everything. The spruce trees, high as they are, had enough sunshine to wear off the frost.

A recent storm had tumbled down one of the spruces bordering the garden on two sides. Small damages like this provide us with plenty of firewood for the wood-burning ovens. So today he pulled on his chainsaw and cut the trunk into pieces on the uncultivated piece of land between our garden and the neighbours’ place.

While I cleared out the branches and other mess to be burned in an open fire one fine winter day he took the logs to the woodshed. There they will be introduced to the wood splitter but only after proper winter is here. When the logs are frozen the splitting job will be much easier for all parties concerned.

I am writing this very late in the evening and it is raining again. No more frost at least for a day or two but hopefully many more glorious sunsets shining behind the barn. We might even have some snow towards the end of the week should we be in luck. Maybe the meteorologists have got it right for once.