This morning

When the rose tinted sun glanced over the hills and

the fallen leaves were iced in frost and

the mist hung at half mast in memory of the night

I went for a jog.

My thighs and finger tips burned with cold and the jonquils I picked from the

front yard of absent holiday makers were frozen.

I love a good frost.

I can because my pipes don’t freeze.

I love the way the conifer clad gardens look like Narnia.

I think of wardrobes, turkish delight and fantastic worlds.

I love scratching messages in the windscreens of cars and watching them melt away as we pour warm water over it to drive into the day.

I love, love, love the jewelled white lines of spider’s webs and barbed wire intersecting on fences that frozen paddocks and cold cows


the best thing about frosts is an activity that usually remains in one’s childhood memories


which I came to late

one hungover morning in my twenties a dear friend introduced it to me and I cannot wait to share it with my boys and you.

People if you have never done this add it to your bucket list.

Find a frosty morning

Take one frosty puddle and peel off the ice

Then take your frozen disc and drop it upon another frozen puddle and

Listen to the delight.

The frozen shards snaps, twinkle and dance across the ice in one of the most beautiful displays I promise you’ll ever experience.

It is the original  and the truest definition of tinkling you’ll find.

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