This week has felt ‘blue’ so far. Unmistakably so. I’m rarely one to buy into that whole Blue Monday shebang, I’m usually a fairly happy-go-lucky soul.

But I’ve not felt quite myself aside from yesterday’s Barrecore lesson (my first ever! A post coming soon!) and letting Milo out this morning for an obligatory run-around whilst I prepared breakfast (a fruit bowl and a cafetière of coffee).

And what a beautiful morning it was!

Frost-coated strands of grass, frozen in their ways, eerily natural and unnatural all at once, emitting a glorious, satisfying *crunch* as my feet traipsed over the length of our lawn to really savour the winter landscape.

Wintry hydrangea, that is, dried-out lilac hydrangea: crisp and brown, untouched for months yet bound to bloom into colourful goodness in a few short months.

Our age-old hedges, blissfully left alone since October - so our gardener can have winter off! - and lightly sprinkled with a dusting of overnight frost.

Hertfordshire is brilliantly cold today, the sort of chill that smarts on your cheeks and requires two pairs of socks squeezed into your Hunters and a bobble hat even though you’re sure it makes you look silly. England, you’ve never been more beautiful than during my first January home in two years.

I think those blues have dissipated a little now.





This week has felt ‘blue’ so far. Unmistakably so. I’m rarely one to buy into that whole Blue Monday shebang, I’m usually a fairly happy-go-lucky soul.

But I’ve not felt quite myself aside from yesterday’s Barrecore lesson (my first ever! A post coming soon!) and letting Milo out this morning for an obligatory run-around whilst I prepared breakfast (a fruit bowl and a cafetière of coffee).

And what a beautiful morning it was!

Frost-coated strands of grass, frozen in their ways, eerily natural and unnatural all at once, emitting a glorious, satisfying *crunch* as my feet traipsed over the length of our lawn to really savour the winter landscape.

Wintry hydrangea, that is, dried-out lilac hydrangea: crisp and brown, untouched for months yet bound to bloom into colourful goodness in a few short months.

Our age-old hedges, blissfully left alone since October - so our gardener can have winter off! - and lightly sprinkled with a dusting of overnight frost.

Hertfordshire is brilliantly cold today, the sort of chill that smarts on your cheeks and requires two pairs of socks squeezed into your Hunters and a bobble hat even though you’re sure it makes you look silly. England, you’ve never been more beautiful than during my first January home in two years.

I think those blues have dissipated a little now.





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