Dorset memory 5 A visit to an old friend

The car edged its way down the slushy wet lane as snow still lay dolloped around the base of the hedgerows, more thickly facing northern aspects & small mounds were scattered here & there eroding away after the wind & rain overnight had washed the piled heaps into ever decreasing fragments.
It was a typical winter morning with the rain washed lane curving around & dipping down the hill with bare winter trees spilling their branches over the roadside, high hedges stretching up into the fields & along the lane where sometimes through a gateway, sheep were nibbling sparse winter offerings with their newborn lambs. A few birds flew in & around an old oak gracing the hillside,speading its age old knotty branches hanging low & bare. Scudding cotton top clouds danced slowly across the sky, skittish in the subtle morning light, grey & thickly white they moved over the countryside from a south easterly direction. The sun climbed slugishly above the horizon making its way toward spring while the snowdrops nodded in the early morning breeze in their innocence. Driving down past a river, the car crossed over an old stone bridge & passed through a small hamlet with a few cottages & a farmhouse with its chimney puffing smoke from old blackened bricks,sooty with three hundred years of history. The original slate roof sat higgledy piggledy on sagging beams, slowly eaten by woodworm sitting on thick cob filled walls.
The adjoining cottage was situated on a slope which reached to a woodland, & a stream flowed through the forgotten garden close to the stable door where an elderly lady ventured out to greet the oncoming vehicle. The lady was rather tall but a little stooped with gentle brown eyes & a welcoming smile. Entering through the stable door into the warm kitchen where a small wooden table & two chairs stood close to a large dresser adorned with blue & white china, lunch was soon served of home made soup & fresh bread straight from the Aga. The cosy sitting room fire glowed in the grate shedding warmth tumbling around the room from under a very old oak beam. The sun managed to steal through a deeply recessed window shedding light onto a large rug covering the uneven flagstoned floor. On a side table stood several family photographs & a flowered Minton bowl full of pot-pourri & spices,smelling of summer roses, lavender & sweet just cut hay. A large black & white cat snored atop a velvet covered wing back chair. as the bare winter trees outside gently swayed in a cold winter breeze. The elderly lady drew her wooden spinning wheel over from a corner, dark with a spider's web hidden in the depths of the sitting room. The lady bent with age, plied her still nimble fingers to  lightly greased wool & started to spin a yarn that wound itself onto a spool as her foot gently treadled up & down to a regular rhythm. The wispy wool left her fingers in a single strand,fine & even filling the bobbin as she taught & talked of crimped & coloured fleeces, of long staples & different sheep breeds.
As the sun dipped & the last rays flooded across the winter garden, the car pulled out of the driveway while the black & white cat remained on the velvet wing back chair & slept on as the old lady closed the stable door.