All week long the wind has been howling around our house. The fences have been tested to within an inch of their lives. The garden battered. The chickens, no doubt, unhappy. Our house is quite exposed on top of a hill, looking out onto the water. I have been sat, sewing, listening to the wind singing through the chimney.
Today we got up to a still day, all was calm and the sun was trying hard to reassure us it was still there, gently warming the Earth and promising Spring will arrive before too long.
The decision was made to go out for a walk and get some fresh air after spending the week inside hiding from the elements. We had hot chips, seasoned by the salt on our lips - a little flavour surprise. As we looked out from the pier muffled sounds searched their way through the mist. People laughing, a dog barking excitedly at the prospect of chasing its toy across the beach. We discovered a city lost in the clouds. The fog drew in from across the water, quietly and unnoticed until it drained the colour from everything around us. The temperature quickly dropped and by the time we set off home the air was cold and heavy, pulling on our coats and hats. Our faces pale and noses red. We lost one of little one's gloves, it'll be a little splash of colour for someone else to find and wonder about a little child who still has the other half of the pair.
On the way back we saw a bank of swans, at least twelve of them and one silver cygnet, close together on a field next to the motorway. What are they still doing here? Has the mild winter confused them? I'm concerned, but have to trust nature will guide them and all will be fine.