Wetlands in Winter, 2026 edition

Today's already the tenth, the temperature hasn't risen above freezing since New Year's Eve. This morning, my kitchen thermometer said it was -16.9°C. Walking on ice should be totally safe. I set off after breakfast towards Sułkowice.

Before getting to the end of the lane, I could hear the sky full of honking. Looking up I saw an uncountable number of cranes. Such scenes would have been impossible 20 or even 15 years ago; climate change means that many migrating birds have decided to winter in Poland rather than expend energy flying to Africa. Cranes can cope with a few days of snow and ice, but this is not good weather for them right now. They are scouting for open water and fields without snow cover where they can forage for food. The formation was so big, I could not zoom out far enough to get the whole lot in. Some of these cranes are from the wetlands beyond Dąbrowa Duża.

Over the DK50, through Sułkowice, across the railway line, and into the wetlands. This is the Czarna river, dammed by beavers. The Czarna has been at low levels, almost disappearing in stretches over the summer. This winter's snow is good news for central Poland's rivers.

Below: looking across the Czarna, with open water showing. The wetlands are dry; though the river is somehow trickling through, the land is bumpy clumps of reeds and tall grasses. Not like past years, where small islands of vegetation poked out of the ice. On the river itself here, I can see tracks of hare.

Below: further along the Czarna, walking where I can see the tracks of deer or elk. But I exercise caution as I approach another beaver-made dam. I can hear the trickle of flowing water.

On the way home, I pop into the Lewiatan supermarket in Sułkowice. I'm not using the car while the snow lasts (all that salt, corrosion, ice etc). As a result, I'm food-shopping every second day with rucksack rather than doing a big weekly shop in Lidl in Warka. And here's the funny thing. Although individual items are more expensive or much more expensive than in Lidl, my actual expenditure is much lower (like, 40% lower). It seems I'm only buying food I actually need and can carry. Once they've got you in that supermarket, they tempt you with delicious extras! At low, low prices!!

Below: altocumulus undulatus clouds over ulica Ogrodowa, Sułkowice; in winter, they commonly appear ahead of a front or during transitions between air masses. It's a bit warmer (-5.7°C at ten pm), more snow is due overnight and there's no thaw forecast until next Friday.

Back in Jakubowizna. Pawprints in the snow led me south through the fallow field that lies between my lane and the main street running through Jakubowizna, perhaps shedding light on where Wenusia goes on frosty nights – do you see the polytunnels to the left, and the two chimneys? This may be why her fur smells smoky when she pops through my kitchen window in the mornings.

This time six years ago:
Inequality and wealth – the Polish perspective

This time ten years ago:
Work on rail modernisation, Jeziorki

This time 12 years ago:
In which I get started on Twitter
[Happier times, when it wasn't owned by a ****]

This time 13 years ago:
London Underground is 150 years old

This time 14 years ago:
My enemy's enemy is my...?

This time 15 years ago:
Some thoughts upon the Nature of Warfare

This time 16 years ago:
Snow so deep it needs a plough

This time 17 years ago:
A fieldfare in midwinter

Pareidolia, hypnagogia, hypnopompia – and coincidence

It's dark in my bedroom as I wake for a wee. The only light in the room is from the soft digital glow of my thermometer/clock. I'm not wearing glasses. As I return to consciousness I look across at the device. It looks like a negative image of an old yellowed newspaper, shrunken to a tenth of its size and turned anticlockwise... Can't be...! As my eyes adjust to the light and my brain adjusts to being conscious, I make out the three digits separated by a colon: it's 04:44. It's 17.8°C in the room and -6.1°C outside

I look down. I see two kittens on the floor... no, it can't be kittens. They're in the kitchen. It's my sheepskin slippers. I return to bed. There's a cat on my pillow? There isn't. It's my pyjama top... 

The mind plays tricks on you in those liminal spaces between wakefulness and sleep, sleep and wakefulness. Not only what I see, hear and feel, but within my stream of consciousness. I wrote recently about waking up with the name 'Sylvia Bossack' (with that exact spelling) on my mind. This is quite a common phenomenon. 

One I had on Monday night as I was dropping off to sleep: 'Mount Shasta'. I returned to wakefulness to note it down. Later that night, waking up for a wee, the word 'Carrevolins' and the placename 'Bassetlaw' pop up in my stream of consciousness. It is 04:30.

I drop off to sleep again. I dream that I'm back in West Ealing, having my electric scooter serviced at a shop on the Uxbridge Road. (I don't have, and never had, a scooter, electric or otherwise. The shop is where a barber's is currently located). I chat with the young bloke who's looking at my scooter and agreeing the price for the service. He's done the work on this scooter before, and says he still remembers my address, which he's about to jot down on a piece of paper. "44 Rosebank Road," he says. I correct him, giving the Cleveland Road address. 

Waking up on Wednesday morning, 'Puget Sound' floats into my stream of consciousness. Why?

I get out of bed and the first thing I do is to consult my 1973 editions of Kemps Ealing and Hanwell Directory for 1973. The owner of 44 Rosebank Road back then was a Mr A. R. Casseltine. Not a precise match for 'Carrevolins', but – you must admit – close. 

I consult ChatGPT. "Casseltine is an extremely rare surname worldwide – forebears.io estimates there are only 70 individuals with that name globally, with the highest incidence in the United States and only two in England."  Puget Sound? Mount Shasta? Searches revealed people with that surname connected with both places, but spelt 'Caseltine'.  No precise match, unlike the Sylvia Bossack case.

What could such a sign... mean?

And the algorithm gives me the answer, in the form of a talk by Alan Watts, which appeared today, by coincidence, about coincidence, in my YouTube feed. Listen to this, for it is purest gold...

Follow-up, Sunday 11 January 2026. I wake with the words 'Dov Meckler Band' on my mind. Used Google and ChatGPT, one and only mention of a Dov Meckler was one from Wolbrom, born 1902. No musicians of that name noted, despite a vast amount of resources searched by AI. But no matter. In a parallel universe...

This time last year:
Sleepy time, Christmas to Three Kings

This time last year:
Trains in the snow around Chynów

This time seven years ago:
New football pitch for Jeziorki

This time eight years ago:
The Winter Sublime

This time 14 years ago:
Long train running

This time 15 years ago:
Most Poniatowskiego

This time 17 years ago:
Warsaw well prepared for winter

Town and country, snow and frost

Stepping off the train at W-wa Wola station, on my way to buy new winter hiking boots, I am once more hit by that familiar recognition of an exomnesia flashback, an anomalous qualia memory that I cannot ascribe to my West London childhood. Minnesota in the 1950s? Scandinavia in the 1950s? The clarity of the sky, the rows of mid-rise buildings, the sharpness of the frost, the sun glinting off the icy snow. As a child, I recalled such scenes, though from where, I knew not.

The church of St Stanislaus the Bishop (kościół Św. Stanisława Biskupa), locally better known as kościół Św. Wojciecha. Used by the Germans as a concentration point through which some 90,000 residents of Wola were evacuated during the Warsaw Uprising; some 400 were executed here, suspected of being Home Army fighters or Jews. The trams are running on time.

Below: modern Warsaw, built on the wasteland that was left over after the retreating Germans flattened the Ghetto. The Warsaw Trade Tower (at 208 metres, Warsaw's seventh tallest) stands in the centre.

Left: now that Warsaw West (W-wa Zachodnia) has a fully functioning tunnel system linking all platforms, there's no reason to use the footbridge any more. Once crammed with passengers, it's almost deserted now. There are four of these 'arrows' between the platforms created by the roofline, offering a splendid view of Warsaw's skyscrapers on the horizon. 

Best viewed at dusk on a fine day, when the glass facades are lit up by the setting sun.

Below: back in Jakubowizna, wearing my new boots. With Vibram soles, they are markedly less slippy than the old pair. And – most importantly, they are warm and dry. The old pair had developed fingernail-sized cracks that were letting in water. Five winters' use, probably about 5,000 to 6,000km of wear over the harshest walking conditions of the year.

The morning of 6 January, the Three Kings public holiday, the day after the Twelfth Night, the last day of the lazy season. Shops shut, so a long walk around the snow-covered neighbourhood. The first half-hour is a trip to the forest with the cats – today, only the male cats chose to go with me, Wenusia and Céleste decided to stay in. Below: Czestuś enjoying the snow. Not much to hunt, but he's no hunter (unlike his sister and mother, who decidedly are).

Once the cats had had enough of playing in the forest, they trooped back in single file to the house. Then I set off on my proper walk, to take in the beauty of the day. Below: the edge of the woods, Machcin. Note how low the sun is – and it's only quarter past one.

This time four years ago:

Random photos from around Warsaw

This time six years ago:
The Inequality Paradox: pt.2

This time seven years ago
Jakubowizna in mid-winter

This eight years ago:
Warm winter's day in Jakubowizna

This time nine years ago:
Seeking an aesthetic in the Grim

This time ten years ago:
UK overtakes France as the World's fifth Biggest Economy 

This time 12 years ago:
Ice in the Vistula

This time 16 years ago:
A consolation to my British readers

This time 17 years ago:
Winter in its finery

The time 18 years ago:
Snow fences keep the trains running

My year with Wenusia

Sometimes changes happen to your life that you would never predict. Big changes that alter the way you function, the way you organise your day and plan your logistics. This happened to me one year ago today, on 5 January 2025, when Wenusia stepped into my life. The little lost (or abandoned?) kitten that followed me home through Jakubowizna. 

Since then, she has become the matriarch of a small cat colony, having given birth of 14 June 2025 to five fantastic kittens, each one healthy and wonderful in their own way. I had Wenusia sterilised in early October to ensure that she'd not have any more kittens. And on this beautiful sunny and snowy morning, here we all are in my kitchen – Wenusia and her four sons, Arcturus, Czester, Pacyfik and Scrapper, and one daughter, the glamorous Céleste.

Below: portrait of Wenusia, taken this morning after breakfast. Mum of five.

Below: the Foundling. Photo taken on the morning of Monday 6 January 2025 as we come to terms with a new situation.

Does she feel any ill-will towards me for getting her sterilised? Does she resent her brood, with whom she has to share space in my house, whom she watches as they eat before finally approaching the cat food herself? After her sterilisation, Wenusia's attitude to the little ones changed dramatically. She breast-fed them to the end, into their 14th week. Even as she was recovering from the operation, she would still lie down and for a short while and express some milk from the front pair of nipples to any kitten in need of extra nutrition. But then things changed. She'd start hissing and growling, and lashing out with claws at any kitten that bothered her. She became intolerant of their presence.

Scrapper was always the most dutiful son. Whenever she came into the house, he'd be first to greet her, sniffing her posterior. Wenusia would turn around and display her anger at him. 

Matters came to a head in early December, when she disappeared for six days. I was getting round to accepting that Wenusia had left us, having found a new human to provide for her in a new home, unencumbered by five other cats, when she reappeared. Since then, she has never been away for more than a night. Wenusia usually spends the night outside, even in the snow and frost, but is always there in the morning, on the kitchen windowsill or at the front door.  She has become more tolerant of her offspring, there's less hissing and growling. Wenusia has come to accept that sharing a house with five other cats is better than living the feral life.

Posting about Wenusia's appearance in my life, I was met with many posts from people saying that I should get her sterilised as soon as possible. I didn't, and I'm supremely glad that I didn't. Had Wenusia been sterilised, there would have been no Scrapper (all-round good bloke), no Czester (czabi Czestuś, big, lazy and cuddlesome), no Arcturus (on his way to developing tool-use), no Pacyfik (who joins me every day without fail on my exercises), and no glamorous Céleste, the most beautiful of felines. Every one brings me vast amounts of joy; I could not part with any of them.

It has been a great year together.

This time last year:
Aligned

This time four years ago:|
Don't Look Up! 

This time six years ago:
The Inequality Paradox - pt. 1

This time eight years ago:
Warsaw's Christmas lights, 2017-18

This time 16 years:
Winter commuting in colour and black & white

This time 17 years ago:
Zamienie in winter

This time 18 years ago:
Really cold (-12C at night)
[last night's low: +5C]

More sun, same snow

Flashback to the first time I ever experienced strong sunlight on snow; it was 42 years ago, my first-ever skiing holiday to Courchevel in France, 1984. Dazzled by the sun reflecting off the pure white powder, and the blueness of the sky at high altitude, it made a lasting impression on me. Prior to that, on the few occasions that it did snow in England, the sky was leaden, the temperature just slightly below freezing, and the snow never lasted long. One exception was the winter of 1962/1963, the coldest and snowiest in living memory (see bottom of this post). However, I remember the sky being much darker than the land

Below: looking south along ulica Kolejowa towards Krężel, the snow drifting in from an open field, driven by a westerly wind. Note the ice, packed down by car tyres. Dreadfully slippery.

Below: the Kormoran thunders through Krężel station, late again (half an hour at this stage), on its way from Olsztyn to Kraków.

Below: onward to Michalczew. I arrive in good time for the train back to Chynów. From the platform, I have a good view of the village. Hidden behind the trees towards the right of the photo is Michalczew's murder-mystery church (still unsolved).

Below: I catch the 12:11 from Michalczew back to Chynów. I find a seat in the last section of the last carriage, the part for carrying bicycles. Seating guaranteed on a day like today. No bikes.

Below: I live at the top of Kodachrome Lane; one of the XII Canonical Prospects of Jakubowizna. Any time of the year – as long as the sun is shining. Walking total today: 14,800 paces.

Below: early January 1963; just before my brother was born. I am outside our house (small figure on the right). My abiding memory was the darkness of the sky; the glass roof of our veranda was covered with snow making the interior of the back of the house much darker. And I remember the cold. Duffel coat, wellington boots, woollen gloves and scarf were inadequate, as was the lack of decent heating in the house. Photo by my father.

This time two years ago:
2023: A year in travel
[In 2024 Google enshittified Google Maps by removing the Timelines feature from the laptop app.]

This time three years ago:
Letters to the Postman

This time four years ago:
Progress at Warsaw West station
[Job finally finished in December 2025]

This time seven years ago:
From West London to South Warsaw

This time ten years ago:
Anger and hate have no place in political discourse
[Dream the fuck on.]

This time 12 years ago:
Is Conservatism rural or urban in nature?

This time 13 years ago:
Poland's roads get slightly less deadly

This time 14 years ago:
It's expensive being rich in Warsaw 

This time 16 years:
Winter commuting in colour and black & white

This time 17 years ago:
Zamienie in winter

This time 18 years ago:
Really cold (-12C at night)

Winter in black and white and colour

Winter continues, though the temperature hovers around zero. Forecast for the next six days – temperatures are due to fall to -10°C at night with daytime highs of between -5°C and -7°C, but no more snowfalls. Snow is badly needed by the land, to top up depleted ground water after years of drought.

Below: view of my house from the front garden. Properly snowed in. Another day when use of the car to drive to the shops isn't practical, so it's rucksack on, and I set off to the Lewiatan in Sułkowice. on foot. Get some paces in. The cats are all nice and warm indoors, having all spent the post-breakfast period scampering in the snow.

Below: the first half of my walk is in monochrome. Approaching Grobice. All is quiet in the orchards. The serious pruning has either been done or will wait; it has to be done before the sap starts rising.

Below: pollarded willows, between Grobice and Sułkowice. Pollarding involves cutting back the upper branches of a tree around two metres above ground level, to foster dense new growth that's out of reach of grazing animals. Coppicing, on the other hand, involves cutting a tree down to near ground level, stimulating multiple new shoots from the stump, for regular harvesting. These traditional forms of woodland management are aimed at sustainable resource use.

Left: not a frothing tankard of lager with a fine head; rather a fence-post with four inches of fresh snow sitting on top. Ulica Graniczna ('border street'), the border being between two poviats (Grojecki and Piaseczyński), two gminas (Chynów and Góra Kalwaria) and two villages (Nowe Grobice and Czaplinek).

Below: onwards into Sułkowice. The track soon turns to asphalt; walking on soft snow is hard work, but walking along the asphalt where cars have beaten down the snow is dangerously slippery. The optimal course is where there's still snow (rather than ice), but the snow's not too thick.

Left: having done my shopping – enough to get by to Monday, I catch the train home one stop from Sułkowice to Chynów. The clouds drift by, and the sun makes an appearance. I am nearing my działka; again, I pick my course carefully between the ice compacted by traffic and the thick virgin snow lying on the verges.

Below: the sun brings back colour to the day. Even with the train, I've still managed over 13,500 paces today (and a slightly larger number yesterday and the day before). Good start to the year!

This morning the sun rose at 07:42 today – one minute earlier than yesterday. For the previous week, the sun rose at 07:43 in Chynów, the latest sunrise of the year. And so, as with sunsets, that have been getting later and later since 17 December, the day is now getting longer at both ends. Nine minutes longer indeed.

This time 11 years ago:
Scenarios for Russia

 

This time 12 years ago:
The benefits of extending the human lifespan

This time 14 years ago:
Light show at the Presidential Palace

This time 16 years ago:
About juice - and empty supermarket shelves

This time 17 years ago:
That's what I call Winter Vol. 12

This time 18 years ago:
When the days start getting a little longer...

The Sun and Snow

A window of clear blue sky opened just as I was about to set off on foot to the shops. Lovely – time to fix the polarising filter to my 18-55mm kit lens... And who's this sitting on the ledge outside? Céleste telling me to come into the garden, so I do, and we circumnavigate the grounds together. She's in her element here – unlike lazy boy Czestuś, who's happy snoozing in the warm kitchen.

Below: house and car, covered in snow. I don't fancy driving. The walk will do me good, even with a rucksack of provisions including a large bag of dry cat-food. In winter, the garden is threadbare, vegetation is at its lowest ebb. Spring is three months away. 

Below: I take the back way into town. No pavement, but then no traffic. The sun and the snow bring to mind Count Basie's The Kid from Red Bank.

Below: ulica Słoneczna ('sunny street'), looking down towards ul. Główna ('main street').

Below: junction of ulica Główna and ul. Wolska. An atmosphere of small-town America in the 1950s.

Below: the local shopping centre/business district. The building to the right was completed last year, and awaits new tenants. I hope that a Nepalese restaurant pops up here! Or at least an indoor kebab bar. We shall see...

I walk home along ul. Wolska, turning into the farm track that is ul. Jabłoniowa ('apple-tree street'), cut through an orchard and then down ul. Spokojna ('peaceful street') to the level crossing, then along ul. Kolejowa ('railway street') back home. By this time, a sheet of dark grey cloud has swept in from the west. Never mind – more sunny, snowy days are forecast for the next few days. I shall make the most of them, and eschew use of the car until the snow finally melts. Lent starts on 18 February.

This time two years ago:
Cleanliness, tidiness and idleness.

This time three years ago:
The Search for Perfection

This time four years ago:
Grabów, Krasnowola and Jeziorki Północne

This time eight years ago:
1929-1939; 2008-2018?

This time ten years ago:
Track works between W-wa Okęcie and W-wa Dawidy

This time 12 years ago:
The benefits of extending the human lifespan 

This time 15 years ago:
New Year's stocktaking

This time last 16 years ago:
A walk in the wild winter woods

This time 17 years ago:
Now that's what I call winter vol. 12

This time 18 years ago:
When the day starts getting longer

 

Snowy New Year

A heavy dump of snow on New Year's Eve paralysed communications across Poland; the railway line to Warsaw suffered badly. The record delay was suffered by the Kormoran InterCity train from Kraków to Olsztyn... I saw it standing at Chynów station, doors open, passengers out on the snowy platform for an illicit smoke. The Kormoran left Kraków at 13:38, everything going well until it got beyond Warka. At Chynów, the train was halted because of some major issue at Czachówek (frozen points? Power lines? Don't know. Nobody knew). 

Below: two trains at Chynów going nowhere. Massive disruption up and down the line. I peeked in through the windows of the InterCity train... Lots of party people on their way to Warsaw, dressed up in their finery. The bar wagon was crammed with standing passengers, quite a few necking bottles of Łomża beer. Outside, the conductors of both trains paced the platform, one hand on their walkie-talkie, the other on their mobile phone. It appears that nobody knows anything...

After a long delay, the express train was allowed to proceed, though at little more than walking pace. It reached Piaseczno two and half hours behind schedule. And there, the poor Kormoran finally threw in the hat. Kaput. A rescue locomotive had to be sent from Warsaw for it, while passengers were boarded onto a Koleje Mazowieckie train to town, and in Warsaw they were assigned a replacement train. This consisted of a locomotive and eight carriages – but unlike the Kormoran, it did not have a restaurant wagon or bar facilities. Passengers finally arrived at Olsztyn Główny station at twenty past midnight – over four hours late. Today, the returning Kormoran was likewise hit by woe. At Nidzica, 58km south of Olsztyn, the overhead electric cables were severed by a fallen tree, snapped by the weight of snow. The train had to be hauled all the way back to Olsztyn, where passengers were boarded onto replacement buses. So – not a good start to 2026 for those travelling across Poland.

The first proper snow since 24 November, and the country was unprepared for it. Here in Jakubowizna, about five inches (12cm) of snow has covered the ground. With the cats out, I had the ideal opportunity to see how far they range. The answer is – not far at all! They tend to troop around my garden, and into the forest next door, and, judging by the sets of paw-prints, not much further.

Below: a rare view of the west side of my house, taken from the drive leading to my next-door neighbours' houses. I followed Wenusia's paw-prints here; she is a frequent visitor around these parts.

Below: the gorgeous Céleste, bounding through the snow. She is in her element, more so than her brothers, her long hair an evolutionary adaptation for life in sub-Arctic conditions. 

The snow is likely to stay for a while, as the forecast is a high of +2°C tomorrow followed by a week of sub-zero temperatures.

This time last year:
Poland's Progress

This time two years ago
Time, memory and consciousness

This time three years ago:
Hottest New Year's Day in Warsaw ever 

This time four years ago
"Communication/this is the gift you must not lose"

This time five years ago:
Wealth and inequality – an introduction

This time seven years ago:
Gratitude for a peaceful 2018

This time nine years ago:
Fighting laziness – the perennial resolution

This time eight years ago:
A Year of Round Anniversaries

This time ten years ago:
Walking on frozen water

This time 11 years ago:
Fireworks herald 2015 in Jeziorki

This time 12 years ago
Jeziorki welcomes 2014

This time 13 years ago:
LOT's second Dreamliner over Jeziorki

This time 14 years ago:
New Year's coal train 

This time 17 years ago:
Welcome to 2009!

This time 18 years ago:
Happy 2008!