|A last autumn flaring|
This morning dawned with a soft pale light, a light I recognised, a light that comes with snow, subtle and pale and speaking of winter. I looked out to see the land blanketed in white below a cloud-streaked sky.
|The light of winter|
This is the first snow of the winter in the woods and fields. High on the hills it came several weeks ago but down here there has only been rain. The temperature never rose above freezing all day and the air felt bitingly cold when I ventured out late in the afternoon to explore the renewed snowy landscape. The leaves have mostly gone from the trees now though where there were any left the bright colours were startling against the otherwise almost monochrome scene.
A buzzard floated overhead. A rabbit raced for the woods. Nothing else moved but a myriad tracks of rabbits and pheasants showed the wildlife had come out in search of food. A line of fox tracks, straight and purposeful, cut through the random scribblings of the rabbits. I crunched through the snow, the previously wet muddy ground frozen now. A hint of pink appeared over the distant hills then was gone. The light started to fade and I turned for home, satisfied winter was here.