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theunhurriedreader.bsky.social
The Unhurried Reader 📚🦊🇺🇦
@theunhurriedreader.bsky.social
6.1K followers 2.3K following 7.5K posts
Careful reader, thoughtful writer, nature-lover, garden-potterer, history-dabbler. Readily distracted by birds. 🐦‍⬛


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The Unhurried Reader 📚🦊🇺🇦 @theunhurriedreader.bsky.social · May 30
The fact that @annelouiseavery.bsky.social has continued to produce such thought-provoking, heart-warming and beautifully-constructed tales, full of wisdom and wit, whilst being so ill all the while, has always seemed a kind of miracle to me. Please support her via Patreon or Ko-fi if you can.
annelouiseavery.bsky.social Anne Louise Avery @annelouiseavery.bsky.social · May 30
I've had medical appointments every day this week & I'm having an infusion tomorrow. I'm so tired, I can't get out of bed today. Please support me! Join my patreon, which has hundreds of stories & recipes, or buy me a chocolate over on Kofi! ko-fi.com/annelouiseav... www.patreon.com/c/annelouise...
Get more from Anne Louise Avery on Patreon
Creating Stories
www.patreon.com
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
#OldFoxAdventCalendar
The Twenty-fourth Window. Christmas Eve and in Old Fox's cottage, all was merry. From High Attic to Parlour, every room, every nook and cranny was filled with light and bustle and food. Such food! Bethmännchen and Fernby & Evans florentines and amber tart and ginger fairings and sugar plums and Old Fox's fiery rum trifle. And the snow was still falling, falling on golden thatch and on the dark fallowed fields, on the ancient gnarled apple trees in the orchards and the ancient guard-oak at the end of that happy little lane in the depths of Dorsetshire.
December 23, 2025 at 4:01 PM
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
#OldFoxAdventCalendar
The Twenty-fourth WIndow. Christmas Eve in Old Fox's cottage and everyone was sitting by the parlour fire having tea and telling stories – stories about winters long ago, about the Silver-tongued Nightingale of Kraków and Brave Robin Redbreast and Christ's Harsh Garland, about the golden lights which flickered on Barrowdown on St Stephen's Day and the French princess, in satins tattered and torn, who came to the village on a cold December night in 1791. When it was Wolf's turn, he had an extra big spoonful of rum trifle and began a tale which they all knew and loved. "When I was a little wolf, I would be sent out into the snows to call Grandfather Frost and his granddaughter, Snow Maiden, in for supper. Sometimes I would have to howl for a long time, until the Christmas moon rose high over the church, before they heard me. Then they'd sweep in, all magnificent with their silver crowns and their blue silks, and they would take the best chairs and the best plates, and they would eat with us - borscht, they liked, and all the old favourites - vatrushka and pirozhki and coulibiac - and gooseberry kissel and my mother's rice pudding. When they'd had their fill, they would stand up and bless each one of us with a different gift. My brother had the gift of standing tall and my father the gift of tears and my sister had the gift of forgetting." "What was your gift, Wolf," asked Pine Marten. And Wolf suddenly faltered, the memory falling away like a cliff crumbling into the sea. But Old Fox came in as sharp as a pike and pulled him back. "They gave him the gift of love, Pine Marten, the gift of love," he said, and tucked a blanket over Wolf, who had finally had his fill of stories for that night, at least. "Merry Christmas, my loves, and to all who think of us from afar," said Old Fox, raising his glass of elderberry wine, "Merry Christmas one and all! Merry Christmas one and all!" Grandfather Frost and the Snow Maiden Old Fox
December 23, 2025 at 9:07 PM
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
#OldFoxChristmasFilms
🦊🎄🎥Old Fox's Christmas Film Advent Calendar. In honour of Old Fox's great love of the cinema, each day during Advent, I'll be sharing one of twenty-four interesting and rewarding films to watch over the festive period. 🎥🎄🦊 Day Eleven: Klaus (2019). An imaginative, funny and moving Father Christmas origin story set in Smeerenburg, an old Dutch whaling settlement on Amsterdam Island in northwest Svalbard. The Postmaster General sends his lackadaisical son Jesper to become postman there, tasked with establishing a post office and delivering 6,000 letters within a year. If he fails, he will be cut off from his inheritance and left to fend for himself. Adventures ensue as Jesper negotiates the complexity of Smeerenburgen society, and befriends the spiky teacher-turned-fishmonger Alva and the reclusive toymaker Klaus. This is a joyful and visually innovative animation, which deftly weaves new Christmas myths over old.
December 10, 2025 at 9:46 PM
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
#OldFoxAdventCalendar
The Thirteenth Window. It was Little Yule, St Lucie's Day and according to the old reckoning, the shortest day of the year, the turning-point of the light. Let us walk up together onto Maygad Hill just before dawn, with the icy wind whipping in from the sea and the snow hard and frozen beneath our boots. Look down, across the sweep of ridge-and-furrowed fields – do you see Old Fox's cottage? Ablaze with candles in the winter darkness. Candles in the parlour window cheering visitors along the lane, candles in rows of painted green Majolica in the Morning Room, each staff shaped as a ruffed and doubleted courtier, candles in the winters-worn Männleinleuchter sticks glimmering on the library desk, candles in the High Attic, fixed hard in sailors' lanterns, beaconing the sea road, candles on the kitchen table, scarlet red & golden orange, friendly rushlights by the chatter & the morning porridge, candles in the bedrooms in sweet porcelain dishes decorated with ivy & winter ferns, & candles in the drawing room, the oldest part of the cottage, blazing in the Christmas spruce's arms, glising the glass baubles, and a dozen beeswax rowels, as sweet as roses, on a candelabra wheel, made in the local smithy centuries back, braced high on the ancient oak beams like a crown of gildy stars in the Midwinter sky.
December 13, 2025 at 8:15 AM
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dj-acid-reflux.bsky.social
THREAD.

A collection of photographs of birds I have met in the UK countryside.

You will find the all-important captions to the photos in the alt text.
A pheasant who gets highly annoyed at people constantly accusing it of not being a real pheasant, with real feelings, and of actually being made by hand by a talented member of a community fibre arts group.
December 13, 2025 at 5:31 PM
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
#OldFoxAdventCalendar
Post See new posts Conversation Anne Louise Avery @AnneLouiseAvery The Sixth Window: The night of the Feast of Saint Nicholas. The Newcomer's wagon had appeared on the village green. A thin plume of smoke wreathed from the chimney, and red and yellow and blue and green lamps were draped between the surrounding trees. But where was he? Inside, by the stove, fur as white as snow, eyes the colour of sea amber. He was spinning a silver apple in a wide silver saucer & looking upon the world in miniature. There were the tall creaking ships in the grey Atlantic swell, gulls following in the dimming skies, there were the little children playing in a harbour street in Rotterdam, there were the cravatted and moustachioed gentlemen sipping their Picon-bières in the cafes of Lille, there was the King of England coughing and wheezing by an embering fire in Craigweil House in Bognor, and there were the street lamps glimmering through the windows of Duke Humfrey's Library in the Bodleian as a scholarly fox carefully opened a 13th century manuscript at a well-remembered, well-beloved point and began to read – "SEyn Nycholas þe holi mon þat good confessour was Icome he was of heie men In þe cite of patras …"
December 6, 2025 at 10:51 PM
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
The Sixth Window. The Feast of Saint Nicholas. Well-wrapped up in an enormous rose-coloured muffler, carrying a sturdy wicker basket in paw, Babcia had taken the early bus into Dorchester to do some Christmas shopping on her own.
Babcia the Pine Marten Genge & Co in Dorchester Dorchester
December 6, 2025 at 2:16 PM
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
#OldFoxChristmasFilms
Day Six: Morozko (Father Frost; 1965). Directed by Alexander Rou, the doyen of the Gorky Film Studio, this is the pinnacle of Soviet folk revivalist cinema. Based on the fairy tale Morozko or Father Frost, its deep winter magic, wild Russian humour, sumptuous cinematography, uneven special effects, questionable acting and fierce insistence on the conquering power of goodness and kindness are to be utterly relished.
December 6, 2025 at 9:54 AM
theunhurriedreader.bsky.social
At last! I've just found the BBC dramatisation of Precious Bane on YouTube.

youtu.be/vc6OBRu5xk4?...
Precious Bane (1989)
YouTube video by beholdthestars
youtu.be
December 6, 2025 at 11:21 AM
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dannyve.bsky.social
Invest in hope

www.theguardian.com/society/2025...
Communities are our defence against hatred. Now, more than ever, we must invest in hope
For this year’s Guardian charity appeal we are asking readers to donate to Citizens UK, The Linking Network, Locality, Hope Unlimited Charitable Trust and Who is Your Neighbour?
www.theguardian.com
December 6, 2025 at 6:26 AM
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venetiajane.bsky.social
6 Dec: Cross-leaved Heath, Erica tetralix, is the flower dedicated to St Nicholas, whose feast day is celebrated today. Through the compassion and generosity of his legendary miracles, he became known as the gift-bearer, bringing joy and hope to all at the year’s darkest time.
A detailed botanical illustration by H. Isabel Adams of various types of heather and related plants, labeled with names and magnified views of parts.
December 6, 2025 at 7:03 AM
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arealmofwonder.bsky.social
"May you be forever blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness which you gave to another lonely and grateful heart. Isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of one's life?"
~ Fyodor Dostoevsky

The Road in Vetheuil in Winter
🎨 Claude Monet (1879)
December 6, 2025 at 7:12 AM
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lucyantal.bsky.social
Nearly 50% funded. Can we get there over the weekend? £36.50 needed! Thank you all for the reposts & donations so far. 😘

pay.collctiv.com/stockbridge-...
Stockbridge Village Christmas Support | Collctiv
Knowsley food aid organisations have been badly hit by the demise of the Knowsley Foodbank distributer. We are raising ££ to help the Stockbridge Village pantry give people a nicer Christmas.
pay.collctiv.com
December 6, 2025 at 7:16 AM
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drmjwarren.bsky.social
Just finished @nicolawriting.bsky.social’s #GhostsOfTheFarm. Bloody hell, she’s only done it again—another staggeringly beautiful book. I couldn’t stop thinking: “God, I wish I’d written that line!” No one does elegiac like she does; tender, subtle, exquisite. #naturewriting
Nic Chester’s Ghosts of the Farm, front cover.
December 6, 2025 at 7:50 AM
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dj-acid-reflux.bsky.social
I know it makes me a bit weird and unfashionable but something I have noticed is that people who have read my books generally seem to like them more than people who haven't.
December 6, 2025 at 8:27 AM
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jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Way, way beyond price, is hearing a thrush’s song when walking streets on a cold, dark & wet December morn. Two hours later & he is yet to leave my mind. I get on with today in the afterglow of the music he made.
December 6, 2025 at 8:35 AM
theunhurriedreader.bsky.social
Congratulations!
December 6, 2025 at 9:09 AM
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jacquiwine.bsky.social
From the archive for Sylvia Townsend Warner, #BornOnThisDay in 1893, my thoughts on the excellent LOLLY WILLOWES.

A magical novel in more ways than one! #BookSky #nyrbwomen25 #BOTD #books #archiveday #backlisted 💙📚

jacquiwine.wordpress.com/2018/10/16/l...
Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner
Lolly Willowes – the debut novel of the English writer Sylvia Townsend Warner – was an instant success on its publication in 1926. Now regarded as something of an early feminist classic, it tells t…
jacquiwine.wordpress.com
December 6, 2025 at 8:57 AM
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
#OldFoxAdventCalendar
The Fourth Window: For the past few years, Wolf had received an adventskalender in the post from his friend Ulfric, an elderly wolf who lived in Munich. This Advent, he had sent a beautiful Nikolaus calendar made by the lithographers Reichhold & Lang. It had nineteen doors – the first to be opened on St Nicholas' Day, the 6th December, the last on Christmas Eve. Each door was decorated with a small angel and a wolf holding different flowers and plants of the season –Schneerosen, Mistletoe, snow-white Chrysanthemums, blood-red Holly, Goldflieder, Kirschblüten. Of even greater delight, however, was the daily additional presence of a delicious Stollwerck chocolate. Each morning, Wolf leapt out of bed and thundered with such excitement and exuberance and untrammelled happiness towards his calendar, that Old Fox quietly ordered an extra large box of Stollwerck bonbons for Christmas Day.
December 4, 2025 at 10:28 AM
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
The Fifth Window. The Elderly Squirrel was carefully arranging his Christmas cards on the Georgian mantlepiece in his little sitting room. There were five cards in sum.
The Elderly Squirrel in younger days Good King Wenceslas sheet music A postcard of Cliff Walk, Newport, Rhode Island.
December 4, 2025 at 12:37 PM
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
#OldFoxChristmasFilms Day Five: Joulutarina (Christmas Story; 2007).

Directed by Juha Wuolijoki, this quiet and very beautiful Finnish film tells the story of how an orphaned boy grows up to become Father Christmas through the pragmatic kindness of his surrounding community.
A still from Joulutarina
December 4, 2025 at 1:09 PM
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lizaadamczewski.bsky.social
It’s the time of year when I do my Christmas auction. This mouse icon is up for auction and it’s to raise money for Shelter Cymru & Doctors without borders. 100% of the money raised will go to these charities on a 50-50 basis.
An icon of gold depicting a mouse on a blackthortwig
December 4, 2025 at 11:29 AM
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
#OldFoxAdventCalendar
St. Nicholas Eve. Peter had been sent to bed very early that night. He had an awful cold, and, because of his diabetes, the Doctor had been called. Bed rest, he'd said, plenty of fluids, just bread and milk for supper. I'll call back first thing in the morning. And don't worry, he'll be fine, he said to Peter's mother, who always did worry, with some reason. Peter didn't feel that bad, but his nose was red and sore, and his head throbbed and his eyes hurt when he moved them around. He fell deeply asleep at seven, and then woke suddenly at midnight, not knowing what day or time it was. He felt rather feverish and giddy. The room was bright with moonlight, and he knelt on the bed and opened the curtains of the little window which looked out across the sleeping hamlet and beyond to the downs and the sea. He heard an owl calling and another replying politely from the far woods. Then, suddenly, the unexpected clip-clop of a horse, the delicate jangle of bells, the creak of carriage wheels. Descending the steep road from Gleydestow farm, was a wagon, gaily painted in bright reds and blues and pulled by a silver horse with a long silver mane, threaded with silver stars. Holding the reins with capable paws was a white fox with bright amber eyes. At the turning to the hamlet, the fox slowed his horse, and looked directly up at Peter for a long moment, and then carried on down the hill into the heavy mist which had risen from the frozen fields. Peter opened the window and tried follow its course, but to no avail. The Newcomer, he said to himself, excitement bubbling up inside, the Newcomer is back, he's back! Christmas is near, Christmas is near! And he closed the latch, drank some water, tucked himself back into bed, and fell straight to sleep. When he woke the next day to his mother and the cheerful Doctor, smelling of cold air and iodoform, he felt as though he'd slept for days. I feel fine now, said Peter, my nose isn't even running any more. My word, said the Doc…
December 4, 2025 at 7:23 PM
theunhurriedreader.bsky.social
It looks as though #Cloudflare are having problems again. I've found numerous websites inaccessible, all with the same error message.
December 5, 2025 at 8:59 AM
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annelouiseavery.bsky.social
#OldFoxAdventCalendar
The Fourth Window. "It's the Rag & Ribbon Weasel," shouted Wolf from upstairs. "He's coming up the path!" "Rather early this year," said Old Fox, and went to open the front door. Standing on the threshold was a whiskery Weasel, great sack on his back full of tatters and frays. Wolf and Grandcub found the rag-bag, which hung on the linen room door. It was a huge bag, made from an old green velvet tablecloth. Inside, were scraps and shreds collected over the past six months: jags of threadbare white linen and woollens and fairy-whisps of calicoes and poplins and faradines and mousselines and tussores and fancy Ottoman and Merveilleux silks. "Always the best rags," said the Weasel, "no cholera in the cottage, no whooping or Scarlet spots?" "Nothing like that, answered Old Fox, who'd brought him some plum bread & a snifter of gin. "Then I'll be giving you half-a-crown and asking for your blessing." And the Rag & Ribbon Weasel munched his cake & swiped his Geneva, and was on his way, vanishing into the snow-piled lane like a puck or a Yuletide gobling.
December 4, 2025 at 8:21 AM