People without babies must think I’ve gone a bit nuts. Every time I see someone I describe, with confidence, how the baby is. Two days later, I’ll be saying something completely different, with no apparent awareness that I’ve done a U-turn that would make a politician’s head spin.
I’m starting to believe that small babies are like the weather: there’s not much you can do to control either of them yet people spend a great deal of energy trying – and also trying to predict what will happen next. It never works as well as you’d like. All you can really do is try to dress appropriately for the climate and expect to get wet now and then.
And I’m still hoping for an accurate forecast!
There are a lot of wild birds on the lake at the moment, as the winter has been so mild that some seasonal visitors have stayed, rather than head futher south. I don’t know which should be where when though.
The swans are here all year round, I know that much!
And they’re always pretty bossy when someone starts throwing food around. Or when a dog comes by, and they hiss for dominance.
The only one I recognize out of these is the mallard.
I took this last photo about a week before the others. The coots are sheltering from strong winds blowing on the lake by hiding in the harbour with a flock of brown tufty ducks. I’d never seen a flock this size – I usually see one or two coots, paddling along quickly with their giant feet. I think they’re rather lovely.
A lot of people imagine that Switzerland is completely covered in snow all winter. It really isn’t. At least, it isn’t completely covered. Here (and I’m back in Switzerland for a few weeks, woo!) altitude matters in a way that it doesn’t in the UK, or most areas. As an example, here’s what it’s like at 400m above sea level, around where I grew up:
No snow. Not a speck. This next photo was taken a 20-minute drive away, at 1200m.
Now that’s Switzerland in winter, right?
You can see more photos from La Givrine in my post from last year.
Sometimes I feel like I’m doing things in the wrong order – usually I don’t care though. As I write this, K’s packing for our trip to PinkPop and when the post goes live, we’ll be packing to come home. It’s our second festival this month, fourth this year, although we only stayed a night at the other three. Hopping from festival to festival is the sort of thing you’re supposed to do when you’re 19, not 29, but honestly, who has the cash at that age?
This shot was taken at Caribana, and we’ve also been to Caprices and Balelec.