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 I went alone to the woods.
It was silent there, but for the steady drip of melting snow. The familiar woodland clearing looked so different cloaked all in white. It was beautiful, but slightly eerie, like stepping into a Grimm’s fairy tale. I half expected a wolf or a witch to appear from one of the trees.
January is all about beginnings, and the pure, as yet untainted blankness of a new year. Resolutions don’t usually appeal to me, but I am trying to tiptoe into 2018 with hope and with gratitude. There’s a tantalising crispness to the first days of the year, like making the first intentional footsteps in a field of purest snow.