Conservatory for ducks (From Gazette & Herald)

Conservatory for ducks

"IT'S not many ducks you see with their own conservatory", said our friend John as we looked out of the office window at five ducks sunning themselves under the top of a tractor cab. My husband John is cleaning out the foldyard at the moment. In order to get into a narrow section of the yard that turns alongside the silage clamp, he has to take the cab off the old blue tractor, as with the cab on, there is not enough clearance under that roof.

The detached tractor cab has its parking place at the back of some farm buildings that are used to store sprays and miscellaneous equipment. It is a sheltered spot and this morning the glass sides of the cab multiplied the rays of spring sun, creating a mini solarium for our comfort-loving ducks.

Suddenly it's spring. We have a multitude of snowdrops; the crocuses and aconites are flowering. Everywhere you look the bulbs are pushing through and dark clumps of daffodil leaves are bunching and plumping up through grass and in borders. Mornings are misty and foggy, not so often freezing and icy. The seasons are on the turn. It is fortunate that the weather is getting warmer as we are still living with a cold spot in the middle of the house where John is finishing off the snug/inglenook room.

He has done a fantastic job, but decided that a building career is not for him. I think he could successfully follow that of a scrap dealer or architectural salvage merchant. I was admiring the flag stones that have created the hearth in the inglenook, only to discover that the path to the coal house has been ripped up to create the said new hearth. "Don't worry about it", I was told when I stormed back into the house to complain of muddy slippers from going to the coalhouse. "I'll find something to put down in its place." Yes. But when.

John has replaced all of the broken bricks at the back of the inglenook, and is gradually building the roof of the inglenook up to diminish the size of the chimney opening. When standing in the inglenook and looking up, you appreciate the width of the chimney, and are greeted by the sight of the sky, through the chimney pot.

Friends John and Angie and their son Jack were at our house for Sunday lunch. It is a cramped experience, as the kitchen is also housing the big sofa from the snug. Before we ate lunch, we went into the room for our friends to see the progress John has been making. They too have been knocking out an old fireplace and building another one in a sitting room, and we have all become accustomed to living life in a cloud of brick dust.

Little Jack, our godson, just loved the inglenook. It must have seemed like a small stage for him. He stood taking imaginary applause, bowing to the wall and then, remembering the proper way to do it, to us. All we needed was a set of curtains to create a mini theatre for him. He was fascinated by the chimney opening, and the glimpse of the sky. "Don't stand there" we told him "You'll get wet if it rains". He gave us the sort of withering look only a two-and-half year can manage. "No", he said, slowly shaking his head "Get umbrella."

Updated: 10:34 Wednesday, March 05, 2003