Hot tea, midwinter and poetry.
Ensconced as I am in the silver light of a near Solstice afternoon, this seems a good way of passing the time.
I hear the cars move slowly, cautiously along the frozen road.
A near Solstice Sunday.
Tables high and low in the cottage are decorated with green and candles, a celebration of this dark, still time.
The descent towards the Solstice continues unabated.
For a few days time will be still as the world turns and the sun completes it’s downward drift…
The tasks of winter continue to resonate around the cottage, calling me to do their bidding…
Low lies the sun in the winter sky.