It was -4C and felt it - especially in the shade of the N side of the castle
Minus four in the morning
And nothing moves
Only my feet and her paws
Crunching through the frozen world.
All of nature is still.
Perhaps paralysed by fear of a return of the beast from the east.
Those long cold days are frozen in memory
Perhaps stoically unflinching in the face of the cold.
Safe in the knowledge of a deep rooted spark of life
Down there in the warm soil
Perhaps it’s simply that the west wind
(Who they say lies asleep at night)
Has not yet arisen
To stir the vegetation into losing its crystal blanket.
Meanwhile round on the sunny side of the castle it was like a different world of light and colour.
31st January 2019, Tweed valley, 12 noon
As I drove North to Berwick I came towards a bank of mist sitting over the river and surrounding countryside. The moist air had frozen into hoar frost and every tree and hedge was sparkling white in the sun.
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