It was the neverending summer until it wasn’t.
I had bare arms working in the garden ten days ago. It’s been sleepless nights with gale force winds, crazy rains, flooding streams and a frost since. I have been stacking wood and splitting kindling.
It is definitely winter.
But there are spring bulbs flowering!
They bring me great joy to see them but they must be a bit befuddled by the weather too. The little fellow has been bringing fresh flowers in for the table alongside the chestnuts, pine sprig and feather he’s found. It’s strange to have the smells of spring flowers mingle with the woodsmoke from the fire. It reminds me of France.