Winter

I live on a hillside, looking out across my village, which nestles in the valley below. The other side of the valley is a lower hill, crowned with trees, and from there onwards the hills of Shropshire roll into the distance, sometimes clear, sometimes grey enough to be lost against the sky.

This morning the further valleys are filled with low lying fog. I love it when this happens because of the way it changes the whole view. Suddenly the hilltops are islands and the slopes a shoreline against a white sea. It’s a beautiful illusion, but surprisingly effective. The light changes, and I can almost imagine I can smell salt on the air.

The winter weather can be a bugger, but it can also be incredibly beautiful. Having the scrape a heavy frost off the car windscreen is no fun. But if I just look sideways I can see the edges of holly leaves crusted white, like icing; the grain of an old weathered gatepost picked out in frost rimmed relief; a brave mauve primrose almost hidden against its frost washed leaves.

Is there anything as beautiful as new fallen snow, a pristine white blanket, softening sound, lying cold under a pale blue sky? Yes it’s a pain because it means I can’t get the car out until I’ve cleared the drive and the road is ploughed, if then! But the dogs have sensed the change and are waiting impatiently to be let out to play, running back to the door demanding that I join them in the exciting new place the garden has become. They’d stay out all day if they could; chasing an old football in giant leaps across the snow, burrowing into the small drifts, digging down to find a stick. I muffle myself up in boots, waterproofs, gloves and hat and play until my gloves are too wet to keep my hands warm.

The food on the birdtable gets covered with snow too, but it only takes on visit from a wood pigeon or a hungry starling to scatter it – and scatter seeds too for the blackbird and robin who prefer to feed on the ground. The Christmas tree, a living tree in a pot, stands near the birdtable in a large shallow tray that fills with water. The shelter of the tree keeps the snow off it and so the birds still have open water to drink and bathe.

The thaw’s not as much fun of course, but there are icicles to admire; remarkably clear spears, dripping in the weak sunlight and refreezing overnight. Occasionally one will drop off the guttering with the crack and tinkle of broken glass.

Not all winter weather is enjoyable. I could do without black ice, gales, driving sleet or pouring rain. But I try to concentrate on the beautiful and tell myself that spring is on the way. The ground will unfreeze and soon snowdrops and crocus will be flowering – already there are green leaves pushing through the soil.

Also, winter does give us fabulous sunrises.