Super moon

 Six a.m. Slide out of bed, feet reach for warm slippers; slip into cosy dressing gown; step out onto the cool landing into bright moonlight. Oscar ‘chirrups’ a gladsome greeting and takes the stairs in threes; runs into the chilly kitchen. Together we stand at the backdoor gazing across the silver lawn, crisscrossed by pale skeletal tree shadows. Bright white light pours through the skylight windows illuminating the kitchen. Os pleads to be let into the garden but far too cold for an early morning foray…

Later, walking gingerly across the frozen grass, he sniffs the air, pink nose bright in the crisp morning. Everything in the garden shines, frosted, etched in silvery-white. How delicate and fragile the flowers appear, frozen, chrystalised, translucent in the low sun…

Rosebuds, sweet peas, tiny tendrils, dusted leaves, powdered ice; now so vulnerable in the wintry air…

Fungi, fringed and frozen, rooted in time, no faeries feasted here of late. No voles or fearless mice; the tiny pitter-patter in the cottage, speaks of refuge from the biting weather…

Calendula and Cosmos hang down their heads, capitulate to the weather as birds gather at the feeders. Crow family stomp fearlessly across the frozen garden, or roost *gallusly in the bare Beech waiting for an opportune moment to snatch a snack!

Thanks for stopping by today – keep cosy winter’s here!

( *Gallus – Scottish – bold, cheeky or flashy)

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