An almost crystalline purity and perfection pervades the morning sky. The brightness, that clarity of light synonymous with crisp cold days, swiftly elevates the spirit,a kind of exalted invitation to the dance.
Having managed to strugglingly manouevre myself downstairs, on finding a relatively comfortable chair, I gaze out across the bedraggled garden. This little landscape has been victim of a far from modest elemental buffetting; the combined artillery (both light and heavy) of wind, rain and cold brigades, has beaten the earth into submission.
I'm all too well aware of those little preparatory tasks. that remained undone, in the run up to winter but, hopefully, I will feel more up to tackling the necessary recuperative tasks when the the season changes.
Malcolm - 7 January 2009
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