December: I walked down the snow covered lane to find the rose bush. It was sharply cold and slippery underfoot and I felt the ice crunch and crack, but the tarmac was reassuring rough nevertheless.
The House Sparrows are fat and fluffed up in the hedge, chirping noisily, and overhead a single silhouetted Starling fluttered it’s wings and sang to itself.
The sky, for this moment was blue. The rose hedge stood stark and brown and my eyes searched for the remembered red of the hips. They are much reduced and shrivelled but still add welcome punches of colour into the bleached ochre and pale straw of winter.
A skein of geese pass over, low enough that the dry rustle of wings is audible. Water drips into a hidden ditch and a passing car disturbs the slush.
The Starling’s song fills my mind as I turn towards home. The sky darkens to pewter as the next hail shower sweeps in from the Atlantic.
In search of roses Shrivelled red hips punctuate A darkening sky
Cards available in the shop now 🙂
