Goats’ Christmas.

Christmas is mostly about nostalgia, I find. Although she renounced children’s telly about a decade ago, on the morning of Christmas Eve Alma still watches the 1970s Czech film of Cinderella.  It’s broadcast on television in many European countries at this time of year – rather like the old English film they show in Germany every New Year’s Eve, Dinner For One (The same procedure as last year?).

Topsy hung around too, pretending to be a rug.

We’d had quite a lot of snow during the night.

Now that it’s covered with snow it seems unlikely that we’ll be using our outdoors bathtub again this year – although you never really know.

The first thing I had to do was blow the snow off the driveway. Then I let the goats out for a couple of hours.

They hardly ever come out in the winter now.  Dyveke says they’re old ladies, but old ladies go out in the snow. I see them all the time.

There really isn’t much to eat.

Though all three had a go at debarking this little mountain-ash tree.

Holly’s beginning to look a bit like a polar bear.

Misty, as always, wanted to show me her undying gratitude for something or other.

Then Holly did a little dance,

and Misty ate some clematis,

and a rose.

Not liking the disruption Vesla was reluctant to come outside.  The only thing she would eat, besides the mountain ash bark, was beech leaves.

One day when the snow has settled I think I’ll take them for a walk.