Crisp and Even

The garden was white when I opened the curtains at 7.30 this morning, and I was outside 15 minutes later glorying in the beauty of the day. So the frost finally came, 3 days after I lifted the dahlias. Never mind, I have every confidence in their ability to not only survive the winter but produce even more beautiful flowers next year. I marvelled at the space created by the removal of that hazel stump. If only I'd done it when first I began planning the garden, but since that has evolved slowly over the 22 months I've been here I couldn't have known then what a good thing it would be. I'm virtually there now with the design, and can look forward to more planting next spring, and watching it all mature. The thought sends shivers of delight down my spine and up my arms.

White-out this morning

Now it's gone

Before

After breakfast I wrapped up warmly and set off for my first real walk in five weeks; the stroll along the beach with Kitty last Sunday didn't really count. As I neared the church Caroline and Patrick were just emerging from their car, him resplendant in huge brown corduroys, check shirt, saffron tie, tweed jacket, cap. He took the latter off and performed a sweeping bow before me. I headed off along the lane and then down through Janet and John's garden to the fields beyond. Oh, the exhilaration of being out on a crisp morning when the sky is bright and you actually have energy! I didn't go too far as the air was cold, and once I tripped over a bramble runner and fell to the ground. But I was fine, too full of joy to care about muddy knees. Back on the lane I met Janet on her way to church, and we walked together. Such a happy woman, well into her 80s but you'd never know. She and John had already been down to Rendham to check on the sheep. I left her at the lychgate as Patrick tolled the bell inside. "Stay well," she called after me. "See you again soon." I'll do my darndest Janet. I will.