This being England, we never really know whether the winter will bring snow or floods or just days and days of interminable grey.
I admit I was delighted that Thursday night brought a sprinkling of snow. It was gone within a few hours and, of course, that may be all we have this winter. So, as I was out early enough yesterday morning to take a suitable photo, I will re-post this poem, in case I don’t get another opportunity:
Continue reading “just in case”
It was a couple of days ago and it was the first real snow I’ve seen this season. Those wonderful, slow, downy flakes that fall when Mother Carey shakes up her feather mattress.
Continue reading “persuasion”
Knowing the country and its culture as well as they do, it must feel like a sort of home-coming. It certainly provokes such delightful situations as when one asked about the flowers on the secretary’s desk: “Are those daffodils? Like Wordsworth’s daffodils?”
Continue reading “clichés and home-comings”
I guess the locals didn’t build enough snowmen.
(See the BBC story Can building snowmen really help to prevent flooding?)
One last snow post for the moment, as rain is forecast now and they say it may all clear soon. An earlier version of this poem was posted a couple of years ago; I haven’t made huge changes, though I’ve added line breaks and tweaked it a little.
Continue reading “snow song”
