Why I Love England (even in the winter)

Last night was the Winter Solstice and there was a full moon that completely illuminated the sky.

We took the dogs for a long walk late at night, even though it was bitterly cold, it was that kind of dry cold that seems more crisp and clean than freezing,

When I was a kid we lived in the suburbs of Long Island and we had a cocker spaniel.  Taking the dog for ‘a walk’ meant putting on the leash and dragging the dog down the street until she did her ‘business’, then dragging her home. This was particularly unpleasant in the snow.

Here, the term ‘taking the dogs’ (we have two – a jack russel and a chocolate lab) ‘for a walk’ has a completely different meaning.

First, we are out in the countryside – in Derbyshire (which for some strange reason is pronounced Darbyshire), in a small village called Dale Abbey.

It is so small and so rural that if you were to send us a postcard, you would address it:  The Cottage, The Village, Dale Abbey and we would get it.

No kidding.

The house is called “The Cottage”, houses out here all have names.

The village is called ‘The Village’. There’s even a sign up as you drive in. “The Village”.

Out here the land is usually green and rolling, but now it is covered in a thin layer of frost and snow.

When I was  kid, if the dog got off the leash she would have run away and never come back.

Here, we walk the dogs off the lead (leash). They just trot along with us, or go ahead a bit and explore and then come back to find us.

The English have these ‘right of way’ laws which allow you to cross otherwise private property as you hike across the country side (or walk your dogs), so we can walk for miles and miles.

Last night, in the dark, lit only by the moon, we took the dogs out past the old Abbey (seized by Henry VIII) and across the fields toward the stream.

It must have been close to midnight, but still the full moon lit up the fields and we had no problem finding our way.

About a half mile from the house we passed a herd of black wooly sheep (don’t as me what kind), all huddled together trying to keep warm, then we went on, over the stream and up towards the woods.

This morning, at around 7, we took the dogs out for another walk.

Same general direction.

As we passed the sheep, an old farmer came out to greet us.

“Saw you last night” he said, spreading food out for his sheep.

I never saw him.

“The moon was pretty bright”, I said, trying to make local banter with the locals.

“Winter solstice’ he said, and pointed up at a bright point of light in the morning sky.

“Venus” he said.  “Winter solstice you can alway see Venus”.

Seeing the bright light of Venus in the early morning light, the snow crunching under my feet, the dogs, the sheep – it all drove home to me how far removed we re from any contact with nature in our life in New York.

When I am in New York, I live at the dead center of Manhattan.

You can look out of my living room window and see Rockefeller Center, but you can’t see Venus, nor would I be able to recognize it if I did.