FEBRUARY - "Frost-locked all the winter..."
Frost-locked all the winter, Seeds, and roots, and stones of fruits, What shall make their sap ascend That they may put forth shoots? Tips of tender green, Leaf, or blade, or sheath; Telling of the hidden life That breaks forth underneath, Life nursed in its grave by Death. (first verse of "Spring" by Christina Rossetti) Bluebells behind the pond This morning's dog walk seemed wintry but a little milder. We walked up to the wind farm and passed a field of nervous sheep. After we had passed by them, they turned and watched us as we made our way back the way we had come. They accepted us on our homeward journey. It's such a nice feeling to be accepted. As they watched us, a female pheasant danced her way through their rearguard, not wanting to fly but not wanting to stay for long either. Pheasants punctuated our morning walk, sometimes running, sometimes flying a little above the ground. It's a bit pointed to be honest - I mean -...
