The Cottage Smallholder

Snow dog and above snow man resting on a bench

Do you remember that I mentioned that I was selling my vast lead toy collection? We suddenly needed to raise money fast on a monthly basis to repay an outstanding debt. And we did it, working together, we paid off that debt over the five month designated period.

I can’t tell you the relief when I finally paid the last instalment in early December. We were free!

I am continuing to sell my collection – it is very large – but I’m buying as well. Adding to my core collection and selling on the other pieces. I’ve discovered that I enjoy buying and selling. Pushed to raise cash, I’d stumbled across a way to earn a bit of money from home.

I love lead toys – the superb modelling and delicacy of the items. The actual process of handling them is incredibly calming. Sometimes I like to believe that I sense their history too.

During these past weeks, since D left, the buying and selling has been a godsend. It’s a total distraction and a good focus for my day.

Most afternoons I walk up to the post office and general stores in the village to post a few parcels to the buyers. I’ve always particularly enjoyed this walk at dusk when lights are on in the houses that I pass.  I like to imagine the lives that are played out in those houses.

We’ve recently had a cold and snowy patch in the weather. I love snow. The glimmer at night from the small drifts when I let the Min Pins out last thing at night. The creak of snow beneath my soles when I venture out to feed the chickens and examine my garden.

Recently, before the thaw I set out at 4 – worried that the pavements might get icy. As I approached the little green some 300 yards from the cottage I spotted this snowman sitting on the park bench and at his feet something very different.

It was a snow dog. I’d never seen one before.

In fact, the snow dog was so beautifully modelled that I initially reckoned that it was a much loved soft toy, donated by generous children to the snowman. I found it hard to believe that it had been allowed to stay there, not tossed aside by someone not quite so pleasant.

When I stood in front of the snow dog I twigged that it was made from snow and my heart turned over. It was a work of art. Floppy ears made from elongated leaves. Real coal for his nose and eyes. Even a tail.

I rushed back to the cottage to grab my camera.

When everything started to thaw a few days ago, I passed the dog again. The ears had slipped off. The snowman’s mouth had been twisted askew. His yew tree hair had slipped off and vanished and his eyes had dropped to the ground. His carrot nose was lying on the pavement.

I hurried past.

But the next day I was so relieved to see that the snowman’s mouth was smiling once again. The coals were back in his eyes. He had a little yew tree hair.

And the dog had ears – moulded out of snow – right on the top of his head. It was just like a bow. Hopeful. Expectant.

I smiled all the way to the post office.

I’ve since discovered that local children had repaired the snow dog and snowman! What a great promise for our future.