Jack Frost

  Jack's late arrival is a cause for celebration, I had wondered where he'd been hiding.  At last the soil is crunchy like well baked apple crumble.  The cloying clay finally crisp, ready to shatter, allowing nature's magic to spring clean the russet soil that supports and feeds our flower family.

Wrapped up against the biting wind, Vulcan and I marched through the woods this morning, the ground now solid underfoot, black mud runs replaced by solid ruts.  Sunlight feeds the soul and lifts the spirit.  Vulcan mirrored my joy, his expressive tail twirling at each fresh scent sensation amongst the decaying bracken.  His presence is calm and reassuring in an uncertain world, his love constant and unconditional.  Today, natures beauty is abundant, a sensory feast for us all, if only we take a moment to stop and stare.