Blue sky thinking
What a relief: the snow which I was expecting in early December has finally reached us! I know that snow is seen by plenty of people as an inconvenience but honestly, after the last month, anything other than torrential, interminable, relentless rain is a pleasure. Particularly exhilarating was today’s crisp cold, feathery snow, and clear, cloudless sky.
We had almost forgotten what blue sky looked like. The rain has truly been phenomenal this winter. The river burst its banks here three, or was it four, times in three weeks. The access road to the fishing hut has been scoured away by the floods. Some fields (not ours) have been under flood water since the first week of December: wild geese and swans seem to have taken up semi-permanent residence. Part of a railway embankment near here was washed away, bringing the main north-south train route to a halt. Sheep have drowned. Floods and landslips have blocked roads. Homes have been inundated, some several times over: I can hardly imagine the misery for those poor people. And our little bit of the country has not even had the worst of the flooding.
So you can imagine the silly grins on our faces this morning when, in place of the usual murk, we woke to a cloudless sky and bright snow. At long last, a ‘proper’ winter’s day! The dogs and I were actually eager to get out for our morning walk. Even our elderly, stone-deaf Westie volunteered to come for once, cosy in his old gentleman’s Harris tweed jacket.
Just a smattering of snow had sifted down in the night, each snowflake settling featherlight against its neighbours, so that you could make out individual crystals in the puffs decorating each twig, each rosehip.
The white page of the ground was scribbled with hoof- and paw-prints, each line hinting at a nocturnal story. Here was a busy rabbit crossroads:
and here there seems, unmistakably, to have been an encounter between a rabbit and a roe deer, who each turned aside to sniff the other. How I’d love to have seen that!
Against the garden wall there are always one or two roses which struggle on through the winter. In the snow, this red bloom is a bittersweet tale in itself.
I couldn’t be melancholy in such weather, however. Through this landscape of marvels we sauntered homewards, filled with clean air and frosty sunshine. Apparently we are getting another few days of the same: winter at last!
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