I would put up a photo but a word picture will have to do. There is a dusting of white over the spindly branches of the apple tree and on the roof of the garden shed, a thin but properly visible amount of snow under the grass, a powder-blue sky and everything lit up by sun. New-year-resolution morning writing regime will begin soon but my visitor goes to Scotland tomorrow and hasn’t yet properly seen the village (as I live on the edge of it).
The Christmas tree is still up, with all the lights and decorations and I’m not taking it down yet because today is epiphany and we are having a small gathering in order to melt the pewter horseshoes that Icemaiden has brought from Finland, so as to get a sense of what might be coming to us in the year ahead; and we will be drinking the champagne she brought with her.
January is feeling quite auspicious so far, so much so that I had a peek at the previous Januaries recorded in my last three MsLexia diaries (“for Women who write”) and they had a grim, hard feeling to them. It helps, of course, that no-one is down with flu and that I am not gearing up to the imminent beginning of a term’s teaching which, though I did love it, took most of my strength to do.
I love the cold weather. It feels, strangely, healthy. Not so strange, perhaps, for the ground seems to need a proper cold snap in order for things to grow properly later on, and we are here too on the same ground, growing, unfolding, putting out new shoots.