This morning was a gift: a walk in the snow, five swans flying overhead, you could almost see through them, like glass in the sun and their wings making that unaccountable whine. Peacocks in ledges of snow on the castle wall, breast feathers shimmering colbalt and turquoise, tails like nests of copper wire, and the peahen white and delicate as the snow itself – had us hypnotised.Saucer-like tracks in the snow: deer, rabbit, dog? Ray Mears where were you? We needed you. Showers as the thaw set in, snow lifting like silk from our boots, the muffled creak as it bedded down underfoot, sinking in, ankle deep so that we were gald to take boots off and relieve oursleves of wet socks when we got home – glad too of bacon sarnies and coffee. Thankful for the sun in the house….
Plenty of game then. I’ll get my shot gun and tuck a Jack London novel into my back pocket.
No shotgun needed – vegetarians unite and wallow in the beauty of the natural world with a copy of ‘The Snow Child’ – followed by Redwood ‘rashers’ sandwiches and Rington’s tea!
Gx
Hi Warren and Gillian – got to say I’m with the vegetarians, got a sneaking suspicion you are too Warren – besides, peacock? – don’t fancy it – all those feathers!
Ax
Me, vegetarian . . . actually it’s not a bad idea. I didn’t end up like this eating apples! As for peacock, who can say, I could tart up my tutu with the feathers, and after all, I’ve unwittingly been eating horse meat all of this time!
Mm Mmm. Lovely winter prose complete with peacocks. And the sun at last, wx