Hard frost this morning. As the day begins, the entire field behind our house is whitened by the frost; cold and stark. I look at the hoar frost over on the tree line. Stunning.
This calls for a quote from Cecil Day Lewis:
White lilac on the window-pane, each grass-blade
Furred like a catkin, maydrift loading the hedge.
And as I write this, looking now to the front of the house, I see the milkfloat leaving its track on the frosted road – while at this very moment (hones