Joys of Winter

yes i think snow melt counts

Jess.

Ariadne - au crepuscule - at twilight.

That is a very nice picture, butty. I'm smiling at the wellies on newspaper, sniffing the delicious soup smells, and I love that ivy. Here woodpigeons eat the ivy fruits.

Here wood pigeons eat anything and every thing! Dratted pesky things. Along with the blasted magpies !

Wood pigeons are responsible for the failure of my broccoli plants.

And mine. And lots of other things. I suspect the blackbirds though of tring to uproot my carefully tended wild garlic !

Drinking Silver Needle white China tea
From a diddy teacup made in Stoke
Because we only have two left
Of those rice-grain decorated
Chinese tea cups
And we are three.
The fluted edge of my Stoke cup
Is not quite right for Silver Needle.
Maybe I'll try a fine bone china
Stoke espresso cup next time.
Hub is raising eyebrows
At my irreverence.

Butternut......sssssshiver! And wellies wet inside!Ooooooh!

I've just got warm, so I'm going to strike while the flesh is warm and go to bed. Work again tomorrow with the judge who is only happy when the temp in the room is 18.
Just realised, meant temperature not clerk and the judge is female.
Goodnight all. Sleep well!

That is delicious tea, bagitha! After some time I managed to source it here, along with Dragon's Well - an equally delicate but green tea. It has to be sipped immediately.

I meant to mention your up-coming clan gathering yesterday - sounding very special to have 4 generations all getting together.

A little red tractor
Chugging along on three wheels
Just passed along our lane
Towing, with blue ropes
Two laughing children
In bobble hats,
Wearing pink and blue coats
With spotted wellies
On red sledges
In a white world.

Snow fell, snow melted, no sign of it today. Going for a walk around Stourhead to admire the winter gardens there!

How lovely, butty! Bet that made you . Thank you for that. I was thinking of this thread this morning but failing to be inspired as yet.

We have a pink south-east sky this morning
Reflected, somehow, behind the mountains
To the north-west.
We have a train of sea mist above the loch
In a straight parallel, at the same height above sea
As the West Highland Line.
And we have a dawn glow of pink water
And an ice blue sky.
I'm looking forward to the school walk.
Time to don boots and wrap up.

A delightful vision, bagitha. A great way to start your day.

We're still snowed in, and keeping our fingers crossed that the oil tanker can get through for our delivery!

A perfect day -
Ice blue sea
Trimmed with indigo ruffles.
Pools reflect
Flint-grey rocks
The pebbled beach
Is stony-still.
Smoke-like mist
Drapes and skirts
The far shore-line
Behind which the copper-clad
Rocks rise majestically.
At my feet a
Carpet of fragile snowdrops
Turn their pretty faces towards the sun
And make me smile...
Butter and Bags

super. Wonderfully visual, a peaceful picture.

super, I am very glad to virtually 'see' your smile. Here is my impression of that same mist a little further inland from you:

The world around my house has disappeared.
Instead of a loch to the front there is a pale grey mist.
Fog has rolled in off the Atlantic
Into the long sea lochs.
It has spilled over the ancient glacial moraines
And obliterated the world.
We are both working at home today
And have lit the fire in the stove.
Apart from the occasional car
Passing on the loch road down the hill,
There is only the sound of the burning wood,
The flame and air movement up the chimney.
We measured it at twenty-five decibels,
Increased by six when I crunched a biscuit.
Apparently the "average" noise in the "average" house
Is sixty-five on this logarithmic scale.
The background noise in a sound-proofed TV studio
Is twenty.
I love the quiet in my life,
But I love the birdsong too.
They are quiet today in the fog
But the quiet snowdrops flower on,
More each day.

I can only echo bagitha's words, super. Delighted you have found your smile today; your poem made me smile, too!

bagitha - I was going to write about the type of silence snow brings, and then read of your quietness in the mist, with your fire for company - and could just hear the snap of your bisucit. Peaceful times.

super butter bagitha I love reading all your verses.
I can almost imagine the views and the sounds. Thank you x

Thank you syberia.

Wing beat marks and hip hop footprints
Mark the peacefulness of my winters garden
Of snow and sunshine
Holding safe the memory
Of apples and every kind of berry
Whilst the walnut trees trace
Shadowy dimensions of a world
Protecting life
Silently.

I love the pace of this poem, butter and the way it drifts off into silence.

Butter Your poem whispers peace, perfect peace!