When will this winter end? Clearly no-one has remembered to tell these snowflakes, on the windscreen of my car, that it is supposed to be Spring.
Winter either bites with its teeth or lashes with it tail – Proverb
“The English winter — ending in July, To recommence in August.” – George Gordon Byron
Thank you to those who have enquired about my recent absence from Focused Moments. I am fine, just flat out with college work and having to be very strict with myself about all things photographic as otherwise they might easily take over. ‘Normal service’ will hopefully resume next month, after we return from a brief visit to one of my very favourite European cities where I will be putting my new travel camera through its paces!
Snow is forecast. We wait with bated breath. Services will grind to a halt, schools will close and we will make our annual pilgrimage to worship the fluffy white stuff before it melts.
Thames Lock, Weybridge
“I love snow for the same reason I love Christmas: It brings people together while time stands still. Cozy couples lazily meandered the streets and children trudged sleds and chased snowballs. No one seemed to be in a rush to experience anything other than the glory of the day, with each other, whenever and however it happened” ― Rachel Cohn, Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares
“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”
I HAD for my winter evening walk
No one at all with whom to talk,
But I had the cottages in a row
Up to their shining eyes in snow.
And I thought I had the folk within:
I had the sound of a violin;
I had a glimpse through curtain laces
Of youthful forms and youthful faces.
I had such company outward bound.
I went till there were no cottages found.
I turned and repented, but coming back
I saw no window but that was black.
Over the snow my creaking feet
Disturbed the slumbering village street
Like profanation, by your leave,
At ten o’clock of a winter eve.