Fierce Frost

This is how winter should be. Bright, sharp, clear mornings, with frost diamonds glittering and the grass turned to needles. All along the river bank the reeds, swept sideways by the river current, are crystallised and fragile, like the frozen paths of fireworks. It is fierce and beautiful.

Yesterday we should have been meeting up with friends, but their small children and large vehicle were unwell, so we postponed. With an unexpectedly free day, Tony and I arranged to meet up with The Sunshines in one of Yorkshire's stylish market towns. Lady Sunshine and I found a lovely wool shop and an art shop and the blokes talked about aeroplanes. We had planned on visiting one of the many excellent coffee places there but they were all crammed to the doors, so we went back to The House of Sunshine instead, which was lovely. I was home just in time for a quick cheese toastie before going out to babysit the Golden Child and her brother. (I suspect she is just learning to wind him up. Who's a clever girl, then?)

Another frosty morning today. I was teaching the younger of our children's groups, and as we brought them back from the hall to the church, one of the mothers said,


'I love mornings like his. You can taste the air.'

Yes. It tastes as clean as ice cold water.