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Winter wordless

Every morning is a surprise here…some are misty, the coops slowly becoming visable as the sun rises and evaporates the damp air; others are cold, chilled with a tough layer of frost, buckets of water frozen solid and perfect to create ice scultures, the garden filling with little ice discs or the sound of torrential rain and the flow of muddy water meeting your feet as you venture accross the poultry garden, leaving footprint rivulets trails, a mud map of my criss-cross routes for the morning chores. But on every morning one thing never changes…. the birds welcome with their enthusiastic honks, bok-boks and buck-wheat, buck-wheat calls. The field is full of little groupings, looking for bugs, for sun spots, for mud holes and if your a goose, for something to chew, trip over or chase!

On this frosty morning the light was wonderful and so I leave you with no words, just moments.

4 thoughts on “Winter wordless

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