w i n t e r

These days, at about 8 in the morning the sky is somewhat like this at the roundabout at the entrance of the estate, except there is no snow and the branches create more of a contrast with the sky.

It is a wonderful way to start the day, and also to end it, though only when the sky is clear and the moon shines strong enough to play along the branches as I walk through the field from WestWood, careful not to sink in the mud. There are certain drawbacks to not walking all the way around, but it is still better to wade through the mud than walk three times as much, especially if the wind is strong, blowing, as though she needed soothing, as though she was mad at the entire world. Winter, spring and autumn (sometime even summer) is like October at home, without the colourful fallen leaves. The grass remains green all through the year and the weather does not change much. No seasons whatsoever. No sense of time passing. No fruits in season. No snowmen and white Christmas eves. Plenty of things green meadows cannot make up for. Things of my past and my childhood.

So I wish for something else. When I wake during the night, I can hear the wind howling, as if through the roof, and the rain splashing against the window. I usually go back to sleep hoping it will change by morning. After about a year here, I wish for seasons and extremes, but extremes mean fierce storms, gale force winds, or severe gale force winds - meteorologists could not exaggerate any more -, and the rain falling ceaselessly for four or five days, and often falling sideways.

The days are getting longer and longer each day. At the time of waking it is still dark outside, but by the time I leave the house, it is almost normal daylight outside. In that sense, it has been a short winter. Otherwise, it was no winter at all. Or maybe all I hope is that it's over.