I wanted to check in with the Ceder pile this morning, to see if it was still there and also to sample again the pencil perfume, wondering if it was still as strong in the frosty weather.. the pile was there all dusted in frost and the pencil scent was hanging in the air, it was a heady mix – the delicate ice patterns on the sawn wood and branches, the exposed diameters raw and fleshy anywhere they had been cut
The egret was there but managed to slip out of range again