what’s in a name?

This weekend sees the last full moon of the year and, once more, the papers are full of articles about supermoons.

I was wondering why no-one ever bothered about such things when I was a child, and then I happened upon this page on the time and date website, which says the term wasn’t coined until 1979, when astronomer Richard Nolle first used it.
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winter magic

I was delighted to find snow drops on my walk into town yesterday, but they were only just coming into flower, so I didn’t get any good pictures. Perhaps there will be more next weekend.

I also I found this strange leafless shrub, with flowers the colour of forsythia or winter jasmine. I knew the lack of leaves meant it couldn’t be the latter, but I wondered whether it might be a very early forsythia whose petals had become deformed because it had blossomed too early.

As usual, Google has provided the answer: it is in fact witch hazel. If that doesn’t count as winter magic, I don’t know what does.

just in case

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:
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prime time

Yesterday evening, the clock on my phone tried to convince me that the New year was here hours before it was due. Then time appeared to whizz by and what seemed to be a mere minute later the display read 2018, 31st December.

It was all a bit confusing and I certainly needed that extra second of 2016 to work out what was going on.
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stealth visitor

While Thursday arrived draped in pink chiffon, this morning I heard the muffled sound of an engine and Friday drove up in a car the colour of fog.

 
 

strawberry sunrise

After spending the night gadding on the other side of the world, the sun crept in on Thursday morning, draped in a gauzy veil the colour of crushed strawberries.

 
(This mid-week post is brought to you in a shameless attempt to increase the number of visitors and views logged on the blog before the end of the year.)

Boxing Day

Yesterday was December 25th, Christmas Day. Which makes today St Stephen’s Day; it’s the second day of Christmas, the day on which my true love sent me a pair of turtle doves, and in the UK it’s also known as Boxing Day.

It’s been a few years since I posted this, so here’s a topical love poem, taken from my collection Around the Corner from Hope Street.

Boxing Day poem