Winter. Just the word has a ring to it; a sense that, even if you’re closer to the equator than I am, it’s a time of cold weather and mittens, beanies and long overcoats. Winter, by its very nature, seems to suggest steamy breath, frosty mornings and windows fogged up by slow cooking.

Winter is a season to be adored on the farm. A time of hibernation, with less work to do in the garden and more excuses to pull up the pouf, get out the granny rug for the legs and read a book. Trees are stripped bare, letting the low sun shine golden when it appears. On rainy mornings mist as thick as meringue clings to the top of hills surrounding the valley. The ground crackles underfoot after strikingly cold clear nights, when you have to break the ice in the cow’s water trough.

The start of winter is signified by the sound of chainsaws and splitters, as the last of the firewood is stacked and dried — a job best started in summer, but always improved if the stack is large. We fire up a Rayburn woodfired cooker in the cooler months, the water jacket at the back heating our showers to scalding. In this cooker tougher meats are rendered to buttery softness overnight, the house filling with smells of lamb with wild fennel, beef in stout, or duck cooked in a little red wine. The aroma of slow-cooked beans or chickpeas with meats wafts up to my bedroom from below and my dreams are laced with grand meals.

Mid-winter and the vegetable garden is full of leafy greens ready for picking — kale, cauliflower and broccoli, along with ox heart cabbages and the last of the carrots and beetroot. Nights are long and drinks warm. The thermometer offers an excuse to stay indoors for cups of tea with biscuits. It is an excuse always at hand and often used.

By the end of winter the asparagus has started to break the earth. Artichokes have begun to ball up ready to flower. Rhubarb, some at least, is on its march and the days are longer, if not exactly warmer. Garlic is in the ground, but not doing much. Broad beans are leafy, but a long way from producing a crop. The ewes are heavy with lamb and the chooks have started laying again. Snow can be seen on the caps of wild peaks in the distance, and the pigs are foraging longer into the evening. The wattle flowers across the valley and daffodils that have pushed their way through the soil in the yard release their cheery smiles. Spring is just around the corner, but there’s still time for pork chops with mustard and beer, a white bean and sausage soup, and plenty more steamed marmalade pudding.

Recipes

• Wilted cabbage, garlic and bacon with hot English mustard
  
• Corned beef hash