WINTER

The nimbostratus looms. Its dark featureless appearance is ominous.
The gardens, already sodden, prepare once again.
Oh! Where is the sunshine? I long for the apricity and its warmth on my skin.
Exmoor ponies huddle, like a rugby scrum. These dark and brumous days are long now.

A Herdwick sheep grazes on the mountain side. Like an old craggy man surveying the landscape. Its thick pelt like pipe lagging, drips from its torso.
The sprightly mountain hare sheds his coat. His fur is white now so he can blend into the harshest of environments.
A goldfinch nuzzles on a teasel and probes intently. Its beak just long enough. It relishes the seeds within.
The timid red squirrel pokes his head from behind and old stump. He looks around, inquisitive. His drey needs furnishing and this soft shredded bark is ideal.

The rains have spent now. Faint cracks of sunlight threaten to appear and the petrichor somewhat arousing. Breathe it in! That earthy aroma.
Cyclamen stand erect and the scent of winter jasmine flows on the current of spicy chilled air.
The lone hedgehog is full now. He is eager to build his nest and slumber for the next four months or so.
The dormice too. They have ravaged the shrub and are ready to sleep.
A brimstone nestles amongst the evergreens. Like other torpor prone critters, for them, this hibernaculum will be home for a while.

As dusk beckons, the sky flashes orange and purple hues.
The starling’s murmurate like shape shifters. Here, there and everywhere, the mass contorts across the skyline.
Breath freezes in the night air. Stars are so vivid and mystical, like sparkling dimples. Venus looks very beautiful this evening.
Stargazers suddenly interrupted as a shooting star slices the horizon.

The hibernal winds burn and the frost bites deep. The glacial landscape glistens. Boreas surveys his kingdom. This world, this season are his.
Log fires glow for those brave enough. Melting fluffy soft marshmallows on sticks. Flames pop and burst. The gentle heat healing the numbness in the fingers.
Ashen faces glow as the fire radiates around them.

Snowdrops carpet the woodland floor like draped linen. The end of winter soon to pass.
The streams will melt soon and flow freely once more.
A robin flits and hops alone. He searches for a new home.
It knows that spring is near and that food will be more plentiful.
Deep underground the daffodils search for the surface. They will be the first to tell everyone that winter is over.

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