The past few days have been icy with flurries of what looks like tiny little balls of snow or the fillings from a bean bag or cushion. Not really enough of them to form a blanked but instead they form temporary drifts along the edge off the road and around the base of trees where what little substance they do have is quickly blown elsewhere. This makes an altogether unreal effect like everything has been overlaid with a thin film made up of fake pixels. Everything is poised waiting for the “beast” to return and grind everything to a halt, although everything is pretty much there already.
Despite this I am amazed at the advancement bulbs have made on the balcony in the last few days. I was late planting daffodils, narcissus, peonies and crocus with nothing going into pots until late November. Daily I watch for progress and amazingly in the last few days I have seen the first sign of those green tongues being pushed up through the soil. I am relieved imagining the planting to be too late to catch this season and I would have to wait a full year again for the excitement of spring bulbs flowering.
Living in the city and confinement to the same few streets and roads can impact but I feel like this cold can bring me into a greater connection with nature and all its vigour. Layering on an extra jumper and scarf on-top of about 5 other layers I take the dogs out for their morning run along the canal. Morris is curious, Minnie already a frost fan, rolls on-top of the grass and exalts in whatever it is she gets out of this.