Dark and grey with a chill breeze this campervan morning. Trees buffeted by the wind, deposit remaining leaves. There’s a crackle in the air, with dry leaves rubbing, scraping and dragging as they fall.The Oak still holds onto two thirds of her leaves, begrudgingly letting go of a few as the breeze blows through. Shakespeare wrote
“ That time of year mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold.”
We have been with this Oak for just over 30 years and this is the latest drop that we can remember. The warm coffee is most welcome. Big, heavy, thick cloud above. Traffic is busy both near and far. The blue tits are back darting around the hedge line for a few moments and then gone. Blackbirds in the Ash and a couple of Magpies fly by. The later start means the sounds of car doors, driveways and turning wheels fill the air, providing the foundation for the birds to sing over. It seems the journey north sits on the threshold of one of the coldest spells for a wee while so scouring the house for layers and warm clothing. I think we have had only one proper frost so far this year so winter for me is most welcome, though I know not for some. My sentiments align to Nakul Krishna quoted in ‘Winter’ edited by Melissa Harrison. He wrote :
“My friends dread the idea of an unbroken winter here. I delight in the solitude, the temporary withdrawal from human company quite unlike real loneliness “.
That kinda resonates with me. There is a rawness to the air this morning which promises only to become intense over the next few days and I need to organise the van. Lovely days people.
“Winter is not the death of the life cycle, but its crucible.” Katherine May.
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