Frost

Today there is a change.

The temperature has fallen.

George the cat hurries to sit outside, fur fluffed out like an extra jumper, keen to see what the day will bring. The fields shrouded in mist and the grass heavily frosted create mix of pale greens and blues.

Rooks make loud, angry noises as they flit away into the distance and, the smaller birds whose song has been missing in the milder days we’ve had, are loud in their chat.

Walking the lane is a case of moving from the still, sheltered greens to the misty and and mysterious. The lichen on the trees is thick and in some cases, accompanied by ferns growing on branches reaching into the hillside. It is a strange combination. It almost looks tropical but instead in this colder climate it feels very much like walking back into ancient time and old forests, especially when Rosie the dog, watches and sniffs the newly caught air.

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