It is so cold here at the moment. It is a time for my favourite knitted-by-mum blanket (I must blog about it!) and heating and hot drinks a-plenty. It is a time for inside; a time to wrap up and be kind and gentle.
This was the scene that met me the other morning. Freezing fog enveloped everything around us; fields, hedgerows, sheep – things that had been bright and clear, just the night before. What a difference twelve hours can make…
The fog hung unashamedly, blanketing everything but providing no warmth. It was a cold, musty smelling mist that even the sun could not penetrate.
I could see neither in front of me, nor behind me.
These sheep are due to give birth any moment. What a cold, lonely kind of place to bear one’s young.
This orb is the sun, trying in vain to burn through the impenetrable layers of aspirate. The land’s breath.