Winter in Cheshire is not so much a season as a state of moisture. It could sometimes be an instagram photo of snow dusted rooftops and rosy cheeks but it’s usually more committed to drizzle rather than drama.
We have a different kind of cold here. It seeps into scarves, gloves and clothes. Even if the temperature isn’t freezing, the dampness of a winter’s day gets into your bones. It’s difficult to feel properly warm. Looking out at the garden, those parts not submerged in water or ice, it’s stopped trying to impress, just given up. The bright greens and floral shades of summer have been replaced by a palette of browns and greys. The back lawn, once confidently green, has retreated into squelchy, wet, moss filled resignation.
But mud has become the dominant feature. Cheshire mud is special. It’s not aggressive, it’s patient. It lies in wait until you step in it, then it clings to your boots and travels home with you, determined to become part of the household. Paths edges have become blurred and walks turn into negotiations between progress and dignity. Wellies are the footwear of choice as fashion waits in the wings for the mud, ice and snow to make way for a warmer, drier climate.
The sky has lowered itself, not dramatically, just enough to feel like its forehead is pressing against yours. Rain has become less of an event and more of a background condition! It’s usually a fine, needling drizzle that floats sideways so using an umbrella is a waste of time.
Winter in Cheshire slows you down whether you want it to or not! It’s difficult to power walk through mizzle. It’s more of a shuffle in footwear that gets heavier with each step and puddles that grow wider and deeper to navigate. Life seems to get smaller as outings stay closer to home in case the sky decides to open properly. Occasionally it gets tired of a drizzle or a polite shower and sends thick sheets of water to hit the ground with force. The drops are large and relentless falling in vertical, dense curtains. It often arrives suddenly, as if a tap has been fully turned on.
Winter in Cheshire requires endurance. It teaches us to find warmth through thick socks, boots and layers of clothing which we peel off when we get back inside. But there is humour in it too in the way some pretend that it’s not ‘that cold’! The weather is the common talking point that brings us together. Conversations almost exclusively revolve around how wet and cold it is now compared to the old days. In winter the blame moves from global warming to climate change. But, occasionally, the sun will appear for a few minutes or even a whole day, causing widespread excitement and mild disbelief.
Underneath the jokes there’s something quietly poignant about a Cheshire winter. It strips things back. The year exhales. You notice what’s still out there when everything else has been washed into shades of brown and grey. It’s not pretty but it’s honest. This is how life is going to be for a while so just put up with it!
Spring will come. It always does. Fields and gardens will turn green again and the sky will lift. But for now we must muddle through the damp and the cold.We’ll wrap up warm and take comfort in knowing that we’ve been here before and survived. Our winter is so predictable. By the time it settles in properly we know the routine.
It will do its usual thing and we’ll do ours. Before we know it, Spring will be here. Snowdrops are already out and bulbs have burst through the muddy soil. Winter will drift off and Cheshire we love will emerge. Bright and Green and Perfect. 👠
Jenny Burrell 