Winter arrived today.
Frost on the ground, sealing the pond. Chill seeping into my bones.
This is the time when the garden goes still, packs up, closes down.
Or does it?
I step out to see if anything survives
And find Robin song, sparse in verse, but pure and clear.
Then a blast of blue tit bling.
As blue as the Teucrium, which is holding on still.
A Heron lumbering out of the mini-meadow is as surprised to see me as…