Woops! Winter's here

This is the third winter I have lived here and the first that hasn't snowed me in. Yesterday I was rejoicing in snowdrops, the day before crocuses and today - look - snow on the tops. I am usually to be found in thermals from November to March, but yesterday was so warm, I 'considered' whether I needed them on at all. Today I'm wondering if my super warm thermals are clean or in the wash and have had the heating on all day. The raindrops splashing on the window are making that round splashy shape which indicates more than rain, what they call 'wintery' showers in the weather forecast.
Tonight I'm going out to a late Burns' Night party.  Would rather not.

Taste of winter's demise

Snowdrops enough to make your heart skip with anticipation

Here we are then - harbingers

Crocuses, Crocusae, Crocusaye, Crocuseye, Croaki, Crokusi, Crokee aye adio Spring's icumen in.

January sunset with oak trees

There are majestic oak trees in my back field. This morning I spent a happy hour harvesting last autumn's glory from front porch. This task continues weekly until about June, in the prevailing sou'westerly. No such thing as a free Oak.

What a difference a day makes

I took the same view today, because look - it's a beautiful sunny day on the mountain. It would be fascinating to take the same shot everyday for a year, like Hockney did with his wood. Must say painting pictures could be a lot less stressful than figuring out the technical problems of a very modest e-bay bought camera, uploading and posting. May be a subset?

Sugar Loaf sho 'nuf

New camera, long story. Least said. 

Before, I was taking pictures on my phone. 

Now it's for real. 

Camera real. 

When I go out into the garden, this is what I see: 

The Sugar Loaf Mountain, 

with its daily Sky Action. 

Carol Ann Duffy's poem following the murder convictions

Stephen Lawrence


Cold pavement indeed
the night you died,
murdered;
but the airborne drop of blood
from your wound
was a seed
your mother sewed
into hard ground -
your life's length doubled
unlived, stilled,
till one flower, thorned,
bloomed
in her hand,
love's just blade.

Carol Ann Duffy 2012