DECEMBER -Winter’s Grim
The heavy rainfall in November had silvered every twig and branch with heavy raindrops, that slide gently, merging into depths and flooding the land. The water lay in vast catchments over long periods as the ground was already turgid enticing many gulls inland. Like technicolour snowflakes, the autumn leaves had fallen silently without the merest whisper of a sound, a palette of many colours now lying dormant that will decay and become vital nourishment, given freely without delay.
Now autumn has gone, and winter is upon us. As I gazed out of the window, I saw the most spectacular hoary frost which had accreted on every leaf and blade of grass. Now furred with ice crystals, looking silver thatched and morphed with frost, I am spellbound as I observe the many spiders’ webs appearing like airy citadels, that have been touched by an intricate artist adorned with many skills. However, I feel we must remember to live through the dreary winters if we should value the spring, when new shoots of green appear crowned with two embryonic leaves, a welcome sight, the beginning of a tiny start with the promise of new life to come. I have faith in the seasons to follow, for myself faith is hope with a lamp lit.
As Maverick and I ambled along a narrow meandering path, I soon heard voices sounding softly on the breeze. With a good foot under us, I could hear the catch in their voices, where a dusky eyed crowd of dog walkers wearing camouflage jackets had gathered. Worry then took over Maverick as their vowels became emphatic, but then I had a damascene moment and made a sudden change of direction, taking our distance once again. But soon my eyes came to light on a noble vision as I spied a beautiful Waxwing, a silken haired chatterer from Scandinavia who arrives here in harsh winters to devour the rich supply of berries. He stared down at me with his transfixing power, displaying his black bandit mask and throat, his large orangy-pink crest was raised, his suit of feathers being pinkish beige and his wings and tail blotched red and yellow, brightening up this grey winter’s day.
With the crowd of dog walkers again close by, their lungs like bellows, my heart fell when the bird’s softness faded away. I fear it would be a dull option to continue along the same path, so we headed towards the farm and as my eyes fell upon the old brickwork, salient defects stared back at me. As I visited the piggery where Gertie the old sow rested in her pen and having felt my presence, she flung herself onto her four trotters to greet me, bundling her flabby mass towards the door she grunted softly. I stood aside to let her pass, not wanting to trespass in her sanctum. Her long nose rooted inside my pocket for treats as she has always done. She has long since retired and is much loved by the farmer, a favourite with everyone who visits the farm as she eagerly awaits the many treats brought for her delight.
Outside in the barnyard a feisty stag bird named Roger cried wock wock wock wick, his comb intensifying to a dark vermillion red as he crowed and strutted in triumph amongst his harem of many hens. Just then the farmer came around the corner leading a heavy horse with a clomping gait to his stable, “I believe we’ve only just made it; I’ve seen cold molasses move quicker, there’s snow on the way,” he bellowed.
Over by the pond the willows bound with mosses and lichens leaned in the dark and stagnant water. As I approached the farmhouse Jess their beloved dog came over to greet me, I made a fuss and comforted her leaving some treats in her bed by the door. I collected my newly laid free-range eggs, and we made our way home as the snow began to fall. We quickened our pace as the snow fell heavier and very soon Maverick became clothed in white. With his nose stuck to the ground like a snow plough he shovelled the fallen snow which then collected on his long ears. As we arrived home Maverick’s ears were heavily laden with baubles of snow hanging from them. We quickly dried off and sat by the roaring fire, watching through the window to see the snow now covering our footprints. The beautiful snowflakes drifted softly to the ground, with each flake being intrinsically different in some magical way, thus highlighting an almighty creator.
