It was a frosty night, the ground was still icy and there was a bit of cold drizzle this morning. I wandered slowly in with a young family feeling for our footholds and happy to be out. On the hillside each standing thing had a halo of frost about it, now collecting the damp rain in its boundary layer, the yarrow still green and clustered inwards with its hands down
I passed by the Bayou and drank in its watery strangeness
The skeletal branches have coats of woolly lichen, I find more mossy worlds gathering most profusely on the north facing trunks of trees
and also more sparsely on walls, I am on my way to the final tree cul de sac and pass by The Wall of the Hand of God, here I see the pool and imagine its pull for a young boy, before it disappears under the hatch and the two guardian trees overlooking
There has been an addition to the Tree cul de sac, I see it has a little red ribbon and I wonder if it’s the Christmas tree from St Luke’s Cross, I have an errand in St Lukes and see the tree has gone, at dusk I revisit the site and there is a bigger pile, I no longer see the red ribbon, I know this is the tree.
As soon as the days began lengthening the buds were beginning and many have now broken free from their sacs and are now strongly spearing upwards, here is the laurel promising flowers
The Glen sign rises above the banks of winter heliotrope on the Zigzag and a cloud settles above the rails like a lost sheep above
