This is the winter I choose to stay open.
The one with three big, proper deluges of snow. One in December, one in January and one just as I started to see light at the end of the tunnel, as February met March.
The one with a storm called Emma which hit from one angle as the beast from the east came in from another. Days of freezing temperatures when we either couldn’t or wouldn’t open.
We’ll reopen on Wednesday.
We’ll light the fire.
We’ll hope the pipes haven’t burst.
We’ll hope the roof hasn’t leaked.
We’ll prepare for our first Mothering Sunday.
Come on, Spring. We’re waiting.
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