sharing small stories
Snowdrops ‘Do you know what I was, how I lived? You know what despair is; then winter should have meaning for you. I did not expect to survive, earth suppressing me. I didn’t expect to waken again, to feel in damp earth my body able to respond again, remembering after so long how to open
Thank you winter, for the misty mornings & the snowy days, for the cosy woollens, the open fires, the steaming mugs of tea & the candlelit evenings.
New Year on Dartmoor ‘This is newness : every little tawdry Obstacle glass-wrapped and peculiar, Glinting and clinking in a saint’s falsetto. Only you Don’t know what to make of the sudden slippiness, The blind, white, awful, inaccessible slant. There’s no getting up it by the words you know. No getting up by elephant or
Nothing says fresh start like a blanket of untrodden snow. It’s so rare for us to have a proper snowfall, and yet December brought two, each time transforming the local landscape into a Narnian wonderland. After two days of sledging, snowballs and angel-making with the children, on the third day they returned to school and
